Palace Stories
by Corad and Bijoux
Summary: Early chapters being revised. The never ending Rampages of Baron Praxis. This is the Haven City we know and love. Chapter 45: There's something lurking on the Precursor Mountains and Erol, along with six boy scouts, are the first to know about it. Will this beastly terror be the end of him? And is it related to Praxis? Only tenacity will tell...
1. No, Not Pancakes

**Corad: We've decided it's time to start editing this story, since some of these chapters are quite old and definitely need some work on them. It'll probably take a while to fix mistakes and improve the quality, but hopefully it'll be a better story once we've finished revising it. I want to thank everyone who has read this over the years, and also to those who took a moment to review. Your support kept this story going, so thankyou :)**

**Jak and Daxter (c) Naughty dog. We own nothing.**

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**Title: Palace Stories  
****Rating: T  
Warnings: Possible spoilers for the Jak series. Some characters are OOC (mainly Praxis, Jak and Damas).  
Characters: Praxis is the protagonist, along with Erol, Ashelin and Veger. Other characters pop up now and again, regardless if they're deceased or not. **

**Summary: The never ending Rampages of Baron Praxis. This is the Haven City how we know and love.**

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**Palace Stories – may have been exaggerated.**

**No, Not Pancakes!**

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The noisy bird outside Praxis' window woke him up earlier than he would have liked to have been. In a result, he ripped open his curtains, tore open the window, and threw one of the rifles he'd stolen from Erol at it. The rifle missed the blue bird sitting blissfully in the tree, and hit the ground five stories below. It made Praxis happy though, when the gun went off upon impact, and sent the bird flying in fear. "Heh heh, stupid bird," he laughed quietly, feeling victorious whilst watching a guard inspect the rifle below the window, wondering where on earth it had come from.

Praxis wandered back over to his massive Baron-sized bed, and got in again. He lay there for a few minutes, unable to resume his sleep, before weird visions of batter began floating around his head, followed by syrup. "What is happening to me!?" he yelled, grabbing his head in horror. These visions were like premonitions, and premonitions scared Praxis.

"Sir, can you keep it down? Others are trying to sleep!" Erol's voice yelled through the floor, as he tapped aggressively on the ceiling with a broom below Praxis. The Baron's eye twitched, and he got out of bed, his day officially ruined. Nobody told _him_ what to do!

"Eat this!" he yelled back, jumping as hard as he could on the ground where Erol was standing one level below. The floorboards started cracking, and a chunk of plaster, carpet and wood fell on Erol. Praxis followed, but managed to win a soft landing at Erol's expense.

"Um, sir could you…GET OFF ME!" Erol shouted, pushing parts of the fallen-in ceiling off him. Praxis did the best he could in squashing Erol for the last few seconds he had, before dragging himself off the mess, grumbling about his fun being ruined. The batter and syrup resumed their drifting in his mind as he made a move towards Erol's bed, and the insecure feeling returned with it.

"Sir, no! Not my bed!" the commander screamed in panic, getting up with great effort and running towards Praxis before he could inflict any more damage. He caught up to him, and began dragging Praxis towards the bedroom door. "Ok, Baron Sir. It is 6.10 in the morning. I was asleep, Ashelin's asleep, and the guards are asleep," Erol clarified slowly, trying to explain the fact that having the highest person in command fall through your ceiling early in the morning was wrong.

"Nrgh, I do what I like," Praxis grunted, shrugging his shoulders as if he didn't care and waving at Erol in a dismissive manner. This made a vein in the smaller man's temple throb out of impending rage. Forcing to keep himself calm, Erol continued in the hopes of ridding himself of Praxis.

"Also, I think Torn's still asleep," he added, struggling as he pushed Praxis out the door. Upon hearing those fateful words, Praxis turned to face him in apparent rage. Erol had done it now. Although some may argue Erol had done it when he used the broom in a threatening manner towards Praxis' fun earlier. Either way, he'd stepped the line.

"Torn?! What is _Torn_ doing in here?" Spit was flying from the Baron's mouth, and Erol cowered into a corner as the large man approached him.

"Well, I think Ashelin invited him over," he murmured, shielding his face for another tidal wave of spit. It seemed Praxis wasn't taking this too well.

"I'll kill him! If he goes near my son!" Praxis yelled in fury, his voice echoing down the halls of the Palace, disrupting the rare peace.

"Err, don't you mean _daughter?_" Erol corrected him, hoping that he wasn't aggravating the Baron any more.

"Daughter? I have a daughter?" he asked, forgetting about his rage for a moment. Praxis seemed utterly confused at this point. It was as if his whole life had been a lie. Like his entire perception of reality had been cruelly distorted.

"Yes, _Ashelin_. You were just talking about her," Erol said, coming out of his corner slightly, believing the Baron had begun to calm down enough to be considered safe.

"Ashelin? _Her?_" By the sounds of things, Praxis' brain was melting, unable to comprehend this new and foreign information. His eyes went blank, drool ran down his chin, and he looked dazed out. Erol even believed he could smell something burning, quite possibly his leader's brain as it attempted to process the commander's statement. Beginning to worry about Praxis' wellbeing as well as his own, he inched up to Baron, wondering whether he was still alive and hadn't killed himself by thinking too hard.

"Praxis? Praxis? PRAXIS?!" Erol called, waving his arm desperately in front of Praxis' face. Two seconds later, Praxis jolted awake. He blinked a few times whilst figuring out where he was, before turning to Erol, all rage currently forgotten.

"So, where were we? Ah, yes. We decided that _you'd_ make the pancakes?" Praxis said, smiling in a way that told Erol things could get potentially worse.

"Pancakes? What are you talking about?" Erol sighed in confusion, hoping his "Lord" would leave so he could get back to some serious sleeping.

"Weren't we discussing pancakes?"

"No..." the commander replied cautiously, looking nervously around the room.

After this small conversation, the Baron went into a stupor again, and remained in that state for a few minutes. Erol was wondering whether he should go back to sleep and leave Praxis as is, but before he could make up his mind, the Baron returned to reality again.

"I'll kill him!" he suddenly yelled in rage, before running from the room and heading towards Ashelin's bedroom down the hall. Erol stood in silence as he heard a long, ear-piercing scream drift through the palace. It sounded slightly like Ashelin, and the commander began to wonder what her father had done. The baron returned shortly afterwards, covered in a red mess, looking suspiciously like blood. He had a bored look on his face, unaware of Erol's alarmed expression facing in his direction.

"What did you _do_ to him?!" Erol stuttered in horror, looking at the crimson mess on the Baron's hands and arms. Whatever Praxis had done to Torn, he was dreading finding out.

"What? I didn't do nothing! I haven't even seen him yet!" he yelled defensively, while the red liquid dripped onto Erol's nice clean, cream carpet. It would take days, if not _years_ to remove that stain.

"Well, why are you covered in _blood?!_" Erol questioned, wincing every time a drop of crimson stained his carpet.

"Oh, I ran into the cook, who was holding a battery-powered blender," Praxis said casually, ignoring the liquid running down his arms. Erol stared in disbelief as the Baron picked at his ear, not caring about his potential life-threatening condition. It looked as though Praxis had _forgotten_ about his blender accident.

"So, you make the pancakes, and I'll go make the coffee. But I won't really make the coffee, because that'll be _your_ job," he explained in a tone that suggested he was talking to a child.

"Sir, shouldn't you get that checked out first?" Erol asked in concern, watching as Praxis picked at his ear again.

"What? No. I can just eat it later! Well, I'll be…err... Wait a minute. _Torn!_" The subject of Torn in Ashelin's room came back into his mind, and he ran out of Erol's bedroom, in the direction of Torn. Erol didn't have time to digest Praxis' "I'll eat it later" remark, because he heard a second scream, not so ear piercing and girly than the previous, but it was still a scream. Praxis returned shortly afterwards, and was covered in more crimson mess, this time down his front.

"Praxis, please don't tell me you killed Torn?" Erol groaned, his voice full of shock again. Praxis chuckled happily and replied.

"Oh no. I'd never kill him. I only told him that Ashelin was a man," he said, sounding like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Erol eyed him suspiciously, before motioning to his stained shirt.

"Well, why do you have blood on your front?' Erol asked, feeling that this conversation was pointless. "And you did _what?!_"

"Well, it's _true_. Ashelin _is_ a man. And I ran into the cook again. This time he had pizza."

"Ashelin is _not_ a man! And… _WHAT_?"

"Ashelin is _too_ a man! And the cook walked into _me_!" This conversation seemed to go on for ages, but Erol soon gave up, and stalked back to bed. He was unable to cope with all this insanity first thing in the morning.

"Ashelin is _too_ a man, and you know it!" Praxis continued, and Erol pulled the sheets over his head, hoping to block out Praxis' persistent voice.

"For the last time! She isn't! I think I'd know."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean!?" Praxis yelled in offence, staring at Erol's figure under the sheets.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Erol sniggered, pulling his head out of the sheet to face Praxis.

"You! I trusted you!" he shouted, running as fast as his legs would carry him towards Erol's bed. He leapt on the bed, and body smashed onto it. Erol got squashed for the second time that morning, and the bed collapsed under all the weight. Praxis started punching what he believed was Erol into pulp.

"You…Lying….Stinking…..!" he growled, unaware of Erol scooting a few inches away from him as he began strangling the commander's spare pillow.

"Err...Sir?" he began, watching hopelessly as his pillow was destroyed bit by bit; the case had split and spilt feathers around the room. Praxis stopped his attack, and turned to the source of the voice, wondering what Erol wanted. Couldn't he see he was busy beating up Erol? "I'm over here."

"Wha...?...Oh right...." Praxis said sheepishly, flicking his hand in a downward motion. Scooting over to the commander, he grabbed the smaller man by the collar.

"You…" he snarled, resuming his previous anger while his single eye began twitching.

"I didn't do anything!" Erol hissed back, pushing Praxis' large hand off his nightshirt.

"You…"

"Sir, I don't even _like_ Ashelin. But she _is_ a girl. She used to play with dolls!" he noted, hoping Praxis would get off his crushed bed now.

"Oh, well, that's alright then." And with that, he got off and headed out the door. Erol took a few minutes to erase the past few minutes from his memory, knowing someday they'd be back to haunt him. Once done, he set his attention on the mad screams in the hallway, which sounded suspiciously like the cook. It didn't take a genius to work out what was happening, especially with all the "Aww come on! I'm hungry!" whimpers from Praxis mingled in the confusion. Lying back down on his bed, Erol listened to the struggle in the hallway die down after Praxis had won the battle and was seen running past the door, a large pizza gripped in his beefy hands. The sight was a pleasant one for Erol, because he knew that would keep the Baron occupied for a number of hours. Realising this fact, he decided to get some more sleep, and made his way over to close the door.

Reaching the door, Erol peered out and saw a horrible crimson mess covering a large portion of the carpet. That mess could only be Baron-based, since it was remnants of red tomato sauce and the pizza Praxis had been seen evacuating with. Letting his eyes roam further down the hall, he spotted the cook, huddled in a corner looking distressed that he'd been mugged of his pizza. The wooden spoon he carried around as a weapon lay broken at his feet, and the blender he'd used to prepare the sauce had been brutally shattered. The last thing Erol noted before closing his door, was Torn. Storming down the hall, eye twitching and fists clenched, it was a clear sign that Praxis had spoken the truth and was now on the tattooed man's hunting list. Deciding to get out of the firing range before the Underground member could unleash his hate, Erol quickly slammed the door.

A few moments later, sounds of Praxis' panicked screams flooded the Palace, accompanied by Torn's angry shouts. The sound was comforting to most of the Palace residents, and Erol gave a satisfied sigh as he laid back down, ready to get some more shut-eye. Praxis was Torn's problem now.


	2. Bath Carting

**Corad:This wasn't going tobe anything but one random story, but seeing I got many nice reviews, I decided to make this into a series of stupid stories. I created the plot for this story, but Bijoux wrote it and added a few extra things to it.**

**Bijoux: We don't own Jak and Daxter and god hope never will. We also don'town something near the end which I ripped off of aNickelodeon christmas advert... ****

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Palace Stories**

**Bath-Carting (go-carting) **

It had taken long, head throbbing hours to convince the Baron that taking a bath was actually compulsorily at least once in two years…well…for the Baron's standards anyway…

"Finally…he's actually going to have a bath…Erol, you've been elected to make sure he actually has it with soap…" Ashelin declared as she turned around and started to walk away.

She however didn't get very far due to Erol's protesting.

"Oh no you don't…you fiend! I refuse to go in that bathroom with him while he's naked! You hear me?!!" Erol spat. Ashelin turned around and glared at Erol.

"Look Erol…I just want you to make sure he doesn't do something stupid…" Ashelin murmured, not knowing how right she was about Praxis doing stupid things, with his bath tub.

"Oh, oh I get it! You think just because he's done a few things in the past that have resulted in his IQ expectation level dropping, you think he's gonna go off and do something stupid beyond all reasons?! Like what he did last Easter when he thought he saw the Easter bunny when it was a burglar trying to steal the TV…" Erol screamed, he pointed a finger accusingly at Ashelin, "And another thing…" Erol was about to start up ranting again when he noticed something coming up from behind him…

It was singing ABBA songs…it was wearing a pink with green flowers decorated shower cap…it was happily washing it's back with a back scrubber…it was riding in a bath filled with pink bubbles…it had torn up most of the carpet during it's rampage…and it was slowly moving towards Erol and Ashelin…yes…it was Praxis…

"Oh my god…" Ashelin and Erol both said in unison as Praxis went past in his private bah tub, its golden tiger legs (they hold the bath tub up) were ripping the carpet up as it mysteriously went past Erol and Ashelin.

"How does that work…?" Erol murmured as Praxis disappeared down the stairs, he was practically unaware that he was even moving…

Ashelin looked shamefully at the ground. Why was her father such a moron…? And to think…this is what he's like when he's sober…

"Um…sir what are you doing…?" A guard said from downstairs (can't see guard. Still from Ashelin/Erol's point of view), "Sir…?"

"Oh no!! He's headin for the front door!!!" another guard screamed as the front door clicked open a gush of screams from the citizens outside was heard all over the city as Praxis disappeared into the direction of the port, he was now ripping up the concrete in his bath tub.

"Well…I think we've learnt our lesson…" Erol muttered towards Ashelin.

"Yeah…" Ashelin said as she nodded her head.

"So it's agreed…he's not aloud near the bath tub again…?" Erol sighed.

"Yep…" Ashelin agreed as a guard sounded on the speaker located around the city.

"Attention all citizens of Haven City…If anyone recovers any information on the where about of the Baron, could they please alert the guards…he was last seen floating in the port, in his bath tub… so if he's spotted…" The guard moaned.

Ashelin looked shameful again and Erol began to wonder why he agreed to be the commander of this crazily, pathetic excuse for a Baron's guards...

"Err…Attention all citizens of Haven City…the Baron is now walking around the city with a towel around his waist…NOW IS THE TIME TO PANIC!!!! I REPEAT! NOW IS THE TIME TO PANIC!!" The guard once again was on the speakers, his voice full of fear. Another gush of screams entered the city…

Erol began to think of maybe retrieving the Baron,

Saving the city from seeing unwanted sights…

But then he realized right then and there…

He really…truly…

Didn't care…

"Stuff that idea…" Erol sighed as he strolled off to raid the kitchen. Ashelin was left to figure it out by herself…

Saving the city from her own pitiful father…

Maybe rescuing them all from the taste of Nudity…Praxis style…

But then she realized right then and there…

She really…truly…

Didn't care…

"Whatever…" Ashelin sighed as she went off to do princess things…SHOOTING TORN WITH GUNS!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!

**END…I Hope…**

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**Bijoux: Please review this trash heap...even though it was a pointless waste of time...but anyway... **

**Corad: I have more stupid stories on my computer. If you want those on, I'll be happy to post them up. Anyhow, I've started that other story, and hope you'll like it. Bijoux also has a really llllooooonnnnnggggg story which is just full of stupidity. If you're interested at all, maybe she'll fix it up and add it to fanfic.**


	3. Sleepover of Torment…

**Bijoux: Okay, this fic contains drunk Baron's doing stupid things, so if you take offence to it then you might not want to read it...this is kind of and extra long special...so yeah...I own this story without the help of Corad. I however don't own Jak and Daxter. **

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Palace Stories- May Have Been Exagerated... **

**Sleepover of Torment…**

Praxis chuckled as he threw yet another egg at Erol's bedroom door.

"Hah, that stupid fart won't know what hit him…any minute now he'll open that door and SPLAT! It'll be egg city for that eye of his which isn't meant to get egg in it…what does he call it again…? Vegan eye…? Neh…anyway…It'll be egged regardless…" Praxis laughed as he heard the rummaging from Erol in the room, Erol's rummaging…

The door slowly creaked open and Erol came out. He had bags under his eyes and looked about ready to fall over. Praxis would love the moment if Erol managed to topple down the stairs…just like last Christmas…no wait…that was Praxis who did that…neh…

"SPLAT!!" Praxis screamed as he pegged an egg at Erol's face. The egg hit Erol smack bang in his right eye causing him to scream like a girl scout, who's kilt just got caught alight by the camp fire.

"SIR!!" Erol screamed when he realized Praxis was the cause of Erol's irritation toleration span lowering.

"Yes commander…?" Praxis said in a calm tone.

"You egged my right eye!" Erol screamed as he began to pick eggshells out of his eye.

"Prrrp, you're kidding yourself commander…what makes you think I did that…?" Praxis laughed. Erol glared upon Praxis' annoying head.

"Well…you're the only one immature enough to do it…and you've got an egg carton in your hands!" Erol spat as he pointed accusingly at the bothersome Baron.

Praxis fell silent after this…in fact everything fell silent…

"Father…have you been egging unimportant things again…?" Ashelin sighed as she approached her frustrating father.

"Um he's actually been hitting important things as well…" Erol said as he stepped closer to Ashelin and pointed at his chest.

"Oh…no he hasn't…" Ashelin simply said as she pulled Provoking Praxis to his feet from his crossed legged position on the floor. Erol glared at Ashelin before trying to pick egg-ness out of his eye again.

"But I didn't do it…" Praxis moaned, a pouting face appeared as he crossed his arms and occasionally darted his left eye towards Erol.

"Now father…no matter how un-useful Erol may be, you have to stop throwing eggs in his right eye like this…you now what the therapist said about eye jealously…just because you don't have a right eye anymore…" Ashelin sighed as she began to pull Praxis down the hallway.

Erol sighed in an irritated manner before heading off to do Erol things.

A few hours later Praxis had appeared bustling about the lounge room of the palace. He was setting things up and looked like he was doing a 'first'…cleaning…

"Um…sir…what are you doing…?" Erol asked as he advanced on Praxis, who continued to clean the place.

"Oh…I'm holding a sleepover…and you're not invited…" Praxis casually said, "So…do you wanna come…?" Erol raised an eyebrow at Praxis who began to dust the mantle piece.

"But you know what the best part is…? That annoying ass (sissy tone) Erol…isn't coming…because he's not invited…isn't that just do cool?! So commander do you want to come…? Remember…that stupid butt commander isn't invited…so do you want to come Commander…?" Praxis began to dust about the place, he hadn't even realized the look he was getting from Erol.

"But sir…" Erol began but was cut of by Mr. Annoying…

"Oh…it's you Ashelin! Do you want to come to my party too?!" Praxis waved at Erol. Erol looked about the room but saw no Ashelin.

"Okay…" Erol muttered under his breathe as he began to back away to the door, Praxis was still smiling and waving at Erol.

Erol ran away to his room and it wasn't long before Praxis' 'guests' were arriving.

"So…um…do you like…stuff…?" Praxis asked as Seem sipped some more of her beer.

"…………Go to hell…" Seem replied as she took another sip of her 'James Boag' (the beer).

"Oh…I love that show too…" Praxis laughed. He'd been trying ever so hard to make Seem his new friend but it wasn't really working out…

"So…am I the only one coming to this…thing…? Or are there other victims…?" Seem mumbled through sips of her beer frenzy.

"Oh…I um…oh you mean the other guests! Of coarse there are more guests…" Praxis chuckled.

"Sir…Jak seems to think that I'm a beer cabinet…so do you think you can maybe take care of him…?" Erol muttered as he walked into the lounge room, Jak following closely behind. Praxis stuck his nose up in disgust and ignored Erol.

"Oh, it's you…the stupid ass commander…I don't remember inviting you to come to my Merry Easter, Halloween day…birthmas…party…" Praxis hissed. Seem and Erol raised an eyebrow at this.

"Whatever you think sir…" Erol sighed as he pulled Jak into the lounge room and quickly ran out the door.

"Hey dudes…what's up…?" Jak screamed as he pretended to play the guitar with Seem's stolen beer…which she had in fact stolen in the first place…

Seem glared at Jak before turning towards the door where other visitors were emerging with caution. Torn, Tess, Daxter, Sig, Damas, Kleiver, Ottsel Veger, Keira, Torn, Tess, Kleiver, Daxter, Jak, Krew, Vin, Kor, Onin, Kor, Kor, Kor, Jak, Praxis, Veger, Mar (little Jak), Brutter, Samos, Pecker, Kor, Damas, Seem, Praxis, Vin, Kor, Kor and Torn all entered the room in that specific order.

"(Gasp) They're here!!" Praxis gasped as everyone entered the room and sat down with their bags.

They all partied late into the night, playing loud music and generally getting drunk and stupid. Praxis was the life of the party as he danced about in the punch bowl only wearing Vin's pink bikini. They were all having a ball!

Erol however lay in his bed, wide-awake as sleepless hours flew out the window…literally…

"If they should die before they wake…" Erol laughed as the music got louder and Jak screamed some rude words at Kor, who in return must've thrown his underwear at the ceiling fan on the count of there was a loud gush of girly screams from downstairs.

Jak had begun to cheer at the mere sight of the underwear rotating on the fan.

Erol growled at this before rolling over in his bed and trying to ignore the idiots below.

The door of Erol's room soon burst open and Ashelin stormed in like she owned the place.

"What do you want…?" Erol hissed as he turned to face Ashelin, she looked like she hadn't had any sleep either.

"They've been at it for hours…it's 3:00 in the morning…" Ashelin yawned as some form of glass broke downstairs, this was followed by cheering, mostly from Jak, Mar and Damas…family for ya…

"Well what do you expect me to do…?" Erol growled.

"Well…I was wondering if you could go ask them to shut up…? I tried before but Samos began to eye me…then Torn got angry and pulled out his gun…even though it was out of ammo…he kinda put his dagger in it then chased Samos around the room trying to hit him…" Ashelin sighed.

"Reergh…fine…" Erol growled before climbing out of bed. The cheering got louder as he went along the hallway. He soon heard people insulting him.

"Erol is such a wiener…" Praxis laughed.

"He sure is…" Samos in a drunken state laughed back.

"Well he is kinda hot though…" Erol was pleased when he heard this…on the count of it might've been Keira who said that…he however was dead wrong…

"No he's not…what were you thinking Kleiver…?" Jak laughed like a drunk.

"Yeah…Erol's is more uglier than a bin that caught fire…" Daxter boomed.

"Yeah…he is such a gay…" Praxis laughed back as he slapped Samos' butt. Samos turned around and began to laugh like a little girl.

"Now they've done it…" Erol hissed to himself as he burst through the door. He almost died at the mere sight of what had happened in the lounge room…Daxter had managed to blow his nose all over the couch cushions. Damas and Kleiver were playing cricket with family photos of the Praxises (Praxis, Ashelin ect…), and what looked like Veger and Tess. Brutter was flirting with Samos. Keira was licking the walls. And last but not least of the worst to come…which have technically already happened…Jak was half naked and swinging about on the chandelier…

"IF YOU SHOULD DIE BEFORE YOU WAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Erol screamed. Everyone turned around and looked at him with drunken glares…

"Hey! He's different to us somehow…" Praxis hissed as he pointed a finger accusingly at Erol. Drunken people agreeing noses were soon heard afterwards.

"Hey…I know…He's still sober!" Torn screamed as he tried hard not to fall over, but in the end managed to half cark it on the carpet.

"Let's make him one of us then!" Daxter screamed.

"Oh no you don't! There is absolutely no way I will ruin my dignity! No way. Nuh, uh. NO!!!" Erol screamed as he turned away in protest.

5 drunken stupid minutes later…

"CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!" Jak and co. cheered as Erol drank yet another mother load of rum straight out the bottle. Erol finished the bottle and slammed it down on the floor, everyone else cheered and celebrated at this.

"Look at me! I'm Ashelin!!" Praxis screamed as he ran into the room with a mop on top of his head, the handle/stick going down the back of his shirt. Everyone cheered and clapped at this comment.

And so, they partied for the rest of the night…in the morning most of them awoke in strange places…such as the washing machine…the fridge…the microwave…and some even awoke stuck to the ceiling…By the end of the day…Erol was blamed and had to pay for damage repairs from numerous windows, the couch, the chandelier, the need to be fumigated ceiling fan, the TV, the microwave-oven, the front door, the carpet and lastly the mop…

END…

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**Bijoux:** Um...please review this heap-a-trash, it'll make me happy...well right up until my mum's boyfriend starts calling Erol gay...and saying he has a girls name...when it's a guys name too...I like Erol...um anyway...Me and Corad are also sorry if we're Praxis and Erol bashing, in other cases Jak and co. bashing as well... 


	4. No! NOT HEEEEEER!

**Bijoux: Okay...firstly, I don't own "Jak and Daxter". Thankyou for all the reviews. I own this story without Corad.**

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Palace Stories… May Have Been Exaggerated…**

**NO! NOT HEEEEEER!!!**

Erol sighed with satisfaction as he exited the lounge room. Praxis had finally found a way to entertain himself without having to throw things at Erol, Ashelin or the chef.

Praxis sat on the sofa, a smile spread across his cute little face as he stuffed himself with "Torn brand" potato chips.

"Oh, so you've found a different way to entertain yourself…?" Ashelin mumbled as she approached Praxis who waved at her, happily. "But…why are you eating potato chips which have a picture of Torn on the packet…?" Ashelin asked. She knew Torn couldn't cook anything close to chips, due to the fact that he'd fail miserably and end up blowing half the city up…and even if he did succeed, then his food tasted like Jak's feet…

Praxis examined the bag before screaming. He jumped up and threw the packet out the window…the downside was the window was actually closed so the chips flew out the bag and landed everywhere. Ashelin and Praxis screamed.

"What?! What is it?!!" Erol screamed as he stormed into the lounge and saw Praxis and Ashelin cowering in a corner. Ashelin pointed to the chips while Praxis whimpered and began to cry.

Erol saw the chips and advanced on them. He was about to pick one up when he spotted Torn on the packet. The mere sight of Torn's grinning face made Erol scream like a little girl as he ran away and hid behind Praxis and Ashelin who were now both crying and whimpering at the chips, as they held onto each other tightly.

"Hey guys, whattya…oh my god!!! KIIIIIIL IIIIIIIIIT!!!" Jak barged into the room scratching his behind with pleasure as he strolled along. When Jak spotted the chips he began to scream and ran over to Erol, tackling him to the floor.

"SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!!!!!!!!!!!" Jak screamed as Seem slowly entered the room, an uninterested expression on her face.

"What…?" Seem moaned as she slowly approached the 3 idiots and Ashelin.

"KIIIIL IIIIIIIIIIT!!!" Praxis screamed as he pointed a finger accusingly at Torn's face. Seem rolled her eyes before sending the chips to some magical land with her aerie monk powers…probably to Veger's room down the hallway on the count of you could hear him screaming like a little girl not to far away…and this time it couldn't be Jak picking his nose in the doorway…on the count of he was with the other idiots…and Seem…

Erol screamed with joy before grabbing Seem and running down the hallway dancing with her.

"What the…?" Jak raised an eyebrow as he looked down the hallway, where Erol was kissing Seem. Seem looked all worried and distressed…like my English teacher…

Jak shrugged his shoulders as Ashelin ran out the room and to Erol and Seem. Ashelin was screaming with joy as she went to hug the other two, from their narrow escape from Mr. Torn-a-roonees. Ashelin dived for Erol and Seem in slow motion, when she landed on them both an explosion occurred.

Praxis had soon gone back to watching TV with Jak on the other end of the sofa. Seem began to scream…Ashelin must be kissing her as well now…

Praxis laughed as a man got hit on the head with a cocoanut on the TV.

"Heh, heh…" Praxis laughed.

"Man fall down…Funny…" Jak added in a slow moving tone…well that's what TV does to ya…

The hallway soon fell silent. Praxis continued to laugh at the TV. Jak had soon lost interest in the show they were watching…which was apparently called, "When grannies drag race shopping trolleys". Jak was now getting entertainment out of using, framed pictures of Erol, to pick his nose…

Jak was soon disturbed from his nose picking fantasy when Praxis began to uncontrollably scream his head off.

"MUUUUUUUMMY!!!" Praxis screamed as he threw a cushion at the TV screen and pointed accusingly at it.

"WHAT IS IT SIR?!!" Erol screamed as he burst into the door and came to the sight of Praxis and Jak screaming and throwing things at the TV. Jak was shooting the remote with his blaster gun. Praxis turned his tear stained face towards Erol and pointed at the TV.

Erol turned his gaze upon what was causing all the havoc and destruction…and yes…it was just what Erol had thought it would be…

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!!!!!!!!!! SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!!!!" Jak screamed as he fell to his knees on the floor and clutched his head in horror.

"Sir, calm down…it'll be okay…" Erol tried to reassure Praxis off his worst nightmare. Ashelin strolled into the room and spotted the TV. She soon began to scream as well.

Erol dragged Ashelin out the room kicking and screaming. He dumped her in the hallway and she shut up…it wasn't, however, long before Ashelin had appeared back in the room screaming and pointing at the TV.

Erol rolled his eyes then forced Ashelin out the room again. But she again came back. Erol ran over to the remote and tried to turn the TV off…but Jak had officially destroyed it.

It wasn't long before the advert began to get the best of him and he was screaming for help like the others. Seem heard the screaming and unenthusiastically strolled into the room, she had a beer bottle wedged in her white fingers.

She rolled her eyes at the idiots all strewn across the floor screaming. She looked at the TV and rolled her eyes again at the mere sight of a Jenny Craig advert.

Seem again used her aerie monk powers and sent the TV to an unknown destination…in other words Veger's room…

"NO! NOOOOO!! I've already faced your horrible wrath before!!!!!!!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" Veger screamed at the mere sight of the TV in his room as he tried to sleep.

Seem laughed evilly before hopping onto a lawn mower that had appeared out of nowhere. Seem drove the mower down the stairs laughing like a lunatic that forgot their pills this morning. She must've hit her head on a banner in the staircase on the count of she screamed ouch. This soon passed when she began to laugh again…but then she hit another banner and got her neck pulled back again…but then started laughing again…then she hit another banner…then she began to laugh…then she was unheard of until she went out the palace and an explosion of screams filled the air as she apparently ran over someone's foot outside.

The foot apparently belonged to Sig…on the count of his booming voice was heard as he rampaged after Seem screaming rude words at her. She must've taken her underwear off and thrown them into the blades of the mower…because another load of screams was heard…while Sig was cheering and clapping at the mere sight of the left over material on the street path…

And so…Seem drove the mower to Spargus where she attacked Damas' cat. Damas screamed at Seem before challenging her to a drag race…her red shiny mower VS his bulldozer…they raced through the desert.

Damas was whipping his bulldozer as if it was a horse while Seem drove with one hand on the steering wheel, the other helping her consume beer.

Damas leaned over and whipped Seem. Seem cringed for a while before continuing into the distance with the same old unenthusiastic face expression.

And neither one of them was ever heard of again…well not until the next day anyway…when they appeared sitting on their vehicles, floating in the port laughing at nothing. Jak and co. just didn't understand this…so they did what they do best…laughed at nothing as well…

** END…**

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Bijoux: Please review this story...even though it's a waste of time, space and effort on fanfiction...neh...anyway...Heh, it's funny cause I inherit the stupidity from my dad...just a little while ago he called the 'Rolling Stones' the 'Stolling Rones'...heh...it was so funny...and to think he's like 52 but still so immature...neh...whattya gonna do...?


	5. Jak's BBQ of Disgrace

**Corad: Just to let you guys know, both Bijoux and I are great fans of The Simpsons, so I decided to write a segment but with Jak and co. This is the episode where Lisa becomes a vegetarian, and Homer chucks a barbeque, and unfortunately it might not be as amusing as the other chapters if you haven't seen this. Try and read it anyway; hopefully it will still be funny.**

Thanks to all those encouraging reviews. It helps us create 'work of art' (stupid stories) and makes us feel wanted here. And to you Snickerdoodles4u, if you're having trouble writing humor, either get loaded up on sugar based snacks, or picture a simple object doing a stupid thing. Eg. Ceiling fan rotating on high, with an icecream tub flying through it and thrown everywhere. God, I'm even laughing at that. Imagine a brown mess all over the walls...heh....heh...heh...uhhh. Ok, I don't own Jak and Daxter or the Simpsons. **

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Palace Stories

**Jak's BBQ of Disgrace**

Homer – Jak

Marge – Torn

Lisa – Samos

Bart – Daxter

Mr. Burns – Praxis

Smithers – Erol

Chief Wiggum – Krew

Ned Flanders – Vin

Other characters: Ashelin, Tess, Keira and Sig.

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"Wait a minute, wait a minute, wait a minute Samos. Are you saying that you're _never_ going to eat _any_ kind of animal again? What about bacon?"

"No."

"Ham?"

"No."

"Pork chop?"

"_Jaaaakkkkk_. They all come from the same animal."

"Ha ha. Yeah _right_ Samos. A _wonderful, mag-i-cal_ animal."

Samos replayed his conversation that he had with Jak yesterday over and over in his head. For some reason, he had just realised how bad eating meat was, and now, he was insulting all those he knew who ate meat.

**Meanwhile…**

Jak was on his way back to the underground (His home). He was distracted by a smell of a barbeque, drifting from Vin's PowerStation. He became curious, and wondered up the ramp to the front door. The door was open, and Jak saw Vin with what looked like family.

"Hi diddily doo, neighbour!" Vin called happily as Jak peered in the door.

"Vin, you're having a barbeque, and you didn't invite me?" Jak felt the anger classes that he went to gradually disappear.

"Well, um, Jak. This is my family reunion barbeque." Vin said, fidgeting a little as Jak stared at the chicken on a spit in the centre of the room.

"Oh, I get it. Well, Vin. I'll throw my own party, and invite only who I want to invite!" Jak said, feeling even angrier now, after seeing the chicken. He didn't want to invite Vin. He had this urge to upstage him in any way possible.

"Can I come?" Vin asked, ignoring his nephew who threw a brick at the control panel in the background.

"Ok." Jak said, forgetting that he was mad at Vin. It soon drifted back into his head though. "D'oh!" He yelled, before turning around, and heading back towards the underground. He didn't want to invite Vin to his barbeque, but had forgotten. Now he was stuck with him coming.

**After…**

"Jak, do you _have_ to serve meat?" Samos asked, as he, Jak, Torn and Daxter all sat around the small table in the underground, eating dinner.

"Of course I do Samos. All normal people like meat." Jak said, stuffing some potato in his mouth.

"But Jak…" Samos said, hoping Jak would change his mind.

"Let Jak have his fun." Torn called, sitting opposite Samos. He too was stuffing his face, but he was eating what looked like chocolate on bread.

"I'm gonna hand out invitations tomorrow, and hold the party after tomorrow. It's gonna be so fun!" Jak yelled, jumping up, spilling his plate of food everywhere, and running upstairs. The others figured he was going to type the invitations now.

**The day of the BBQ…**

Jak was holding his special Barbeque near the stadium. He had made Torn set up five picnic tables, and now everyone was sitting at them, including Vin. Daxter was wandering around the guests, Torn was picking up finished plates from tables, Jak was cooking burgers, and Samos was sitting in a tree above Jak. Samos had attempted to get Jak to serve ice-cold tomato soup, but had failed. He was now sitting in the tree, directly above him.

"Eh, uh, Jak! Get me another one of those burgers. I ar, can't seem to stand up on my own will anymore!" Krew called, looking fatter than he had ever looked before. Jak flipped up a burger, and tossed it to Krew. He caught it in a bun, and started eating it.

"Hey Jak. Can I have one?" Daxter asked, approaching Jak. Jak looked at Daxter, and then flipped up a burger.

"Here ya go!" He yelled, as it flew up high, into the tree.

"It's bad enough that they eat meat. They don't have to rub it in my face." Samos muttered angrily, lying in the tree. At that moment, the burger that Jak tossed up splattered directly into Samos' face.

"Urrrggghhhhh…" Samos growled, as the burger slid down his face, leaving behind grease and oil.

Daxter went to stand over next to Torn, who was beside the drink dispenser, with a cup in his hand. Jak thought it was time to bring out his main attraction – a pig on a spit.

"And now, here's the best bit." Jak shouted out to everyone, wheeling the pig on the Barbeque into view. Krew managed to get off his behind, and wander over to the pig.

"Ha ha, Ha ha. Look at its nose." He said, pointing at the pig's face with an apple in its mouth.

Vin stood up from his seat, and called out to Jak. "Congratulations Jak. Your Ques are a _huge_ success. A toast to the host who can boast the most roast!" He said, raising his glass in the air, along with Ashelin, Sig, Keira and Tess.

"Ha, ha, ha, ha. Thanks Vin. I'd have to agree, that everything is certainly…Huh?!"

Everybody gasped as Samos appeared, riding a bright red mower. He had stolen it from Keira's garage, and was riding it directly towards the pig. He had a mad determined look on his face, as he drove straight into the pig, pushing it towards the road.

"Daxter! No!" Torn yelled, horror across his face. Daxter looked up at Torn, and felt insulted.

"What?" He asked, as Torn looked down at him.

"Sorry. It's force of habit. Samos! No!" He yelled at the disappearing Samos, watching Jak chasing him down the path. Daxter decided to follow, and see where this was going.

"Samos!" Jak screamed, as Samos approached the road. He stopped the mower, and let the Pig and BBQ roll into the traffic. Jak ran after it, followed by Daxter.

"It's a little dirty. It's still good. It's still good!" Jak yelled, chasing it through the cars across the road.

The pig rolled at top speed towards the railing of the river. The BBQ smashed into it, and the Pig flew off, sailing towards to water. Jak ran towards the edge, and watched in horror as it drifted with the current towards the bridge.

"It's a little slimy. It's still good! It's still good!" He yelled as he ran as fast as he could to the bridge, Daxter keeping up with him. The pig got sucked into a little opening in the bridge, and wasn't moving.

As the pressure of water behind the stuck pig built up, it eventually was shot out of the small hole, and flew across the city.

"It's a little air borne. It's still good. It's still good!" Jak cried, watching his prized pig flying into the distance towards the palace.

"It's gone Jak." Daxter said, telling Jak the cold hard truth.

"I know." Jak whimpered, still staring at where the pig had flown.

**Meanwhile at the Palace…**

Baron Praxis and Erol were standing at one of the large windows of the palace, looking out across Haven city.

"You know, Erol. I think I'll donate a million dollars to the local orphanage." Praxis said, staring at the sky with his hands behind his back. Erol looked at him in surprise.

"When pigs fly!" Praxis finished, as he and Erol began to laugh.

When Jak's flying roast pig flew past the Palace, the two began to stop laughing, and watched in disbelief as it disappeared from view.

"Wha…." Praxis said quietly, wondering if that really did happen, or it was a figment of his imagination.

Erol interrupted his trail of thought. "Will you be, donating that million dollars now, Sir?" He asked, watching Praxis carefully.

"Hmm, No, I'd still prefer not." Praxis replied, rocking on his heels, watching the city below.

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**Corad:** O.....K.....I hope this was reasonable enough to be called humor. This has been sitting on my computer for a bit, so I decided to spread it around. Sorry if it wasn't exactly a full on laughing fit. If you have watched that Simpson episode, it will help to make it sound stupid. Um, I'm not expecting any reviews for thischapter, soit's totally up to you guys whether you review or not. So ah...see ya! 


	6. Mystical Voyage of Shame

**Corad: Yeah, I was just lazing about on Saturday arvo, when this phrase entered my head. It read - Mystical Voyage of Shame. I wondered what the hell, before deciding that maybe it could be a story. So, it's taken me...um...about three days to come up with a plot that describes 'Mystical Voyage of Shame'. I hope you guys enjoy this.**

**I don't own Jak nor Daxter, and trusting me, I never will....thank god...**

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Palace Stories – May have been exaggerated**

**Mystical Voyage of Shame**

The palace was almost deserted when Baron Praxis stumbled up to Erol in his room, who was reading the daily newspaper. For some strange, untold reason he was dressed up as a medieval king with a large potato sack clutched in his hand. His face was full of determination, as he stood directly in Erol's reading light. Erol looked up, putting the paper slowly down on his lap.

"Yes?" He asked, eying the baron's face, to his costume, to the sack. Praxis tossed Erol the empty brown sack, which Erol caught. He stared down at it, before Praxis started droning on about something. "Commander. It seems we're running low on food. We're going grocery shopping, so get dressed." Praxis declared, pulling out a knight's costume attached to a fake horse out of nowhere.

"Sir, this isn't going to be a repeat of last week, is it? Surely after ten times you would have learned your lesson!" Erol spat, getting up off his bed and backing away from Praxis. Praxis rolled his eyes in boredom, before throwing the knight costume at Erol. "We don't have all night, Commander." Praxis muttered, ignoring the disgusted face on Erol.

"Can't you just send Ashelin out to the store?" He said, dropping the heavy costume. Praxis laughed idiotically, before flicking his hand down. "Of course not! She's coming with us." He replied, snorting as a result of controlling his laughter. Erol growled before glancing up at his doorway, where Ashelin stood in a princess dress and Tiara. Her face was full of fury, and her arms were crossed.

"Father, there is no way I'm wearing this! I don't wear dresses! Why can't you just go out to the store instead of wandering around Haven city, going Trick or Treating?" She sighed, eying Erol who tried to control himself from snickering at her. "Oh Ashelin. Maybe in a few years, you'll realize this is how all normal people shop. Now, we have less than two hours, so get dressed Erol, and we'll be on our way." Praxis roared enthusiastically, striding out the room with his arms in the air.

"Seriously. I am not…going to wear this!" Erol spat, heaving the knight costume onto his bed. He heard Ashelin mutter something before leaving his room.

**Five Minutes later……**

"Ok, I'm ready." Erol muttered with a hint of sarcasm. He was now wearing the armour, with the fake horse around his waist (Seen on Sir Gadabout). "Excellent!" Praxis yelled, picking up a picnic basket which reminded Erol of little red riding hood. He dreaded what exactly was in it, but Praxis cut his trail of thought when he burst out the door, yelling to the other two to follow.

"Here it comes." Ashelin muttered, following her father out the front doors, dragging her feet all the way. Erol saw his opportunity to run back to his room and lock himself in, so neither Ashelin nor Praxis would force him to go, but knew of all those innocent lives about to be ruined if he didn't go. "Hurry up Erol. Get your sorry behind out here!" Ashelin shouted, her hands planted on her hips in annoyance.

Erol strolled out the door, trying to walk as normally as he could because of his ridiculous costume. He didn't get very far before he flew face first into Praxis back. "Knights aren't meant to attack kings!" He shouted, spinning around to see Erol sprawled on the concrete. "You are meant to serve and protect them, so get up front!" He picked Erol up roughly, and shoved him in front of him and Ashelin.

"But Sir, it's not even Halloween! Why do you pick to go trick or treating in the middle of March?!" Erol cried, walking slowly ahead of King Praxis and Princess Ashelin. "Erol, for the last time, we are not trick or treating. We are grocery shopping." He replied, sticking his chest out to show his importance. Both Erol and Ashelin rolled their eyes.

For some reason, Praxis thought knocking on people's doors and requesting food was the normal way to shop. This had been happening for almost a year, and Erol always dreaded that day when the Baron showed up, in some crazy costume. Unfortunately for him, this time Praxis was dressed as a king.

"Knight! I demand satisfaction. Stop!" Praxis snapped, whacking Erol on his shoulder with his king based staff. Erol stopped moving, and slumped under the weight of the armour. "What is it sir?" He asked, turning around. Praxis pointed to a nearby house with a sign – Go away trick or treat fiends – planted on the door. "Sir, they don't accept us. Don't you remember what happened last time? When that old lady came out and threw cats at us?"

Praxis laughed at the memory of Erol running around, screaming as many cats clawed at his face. "Oh yeah. That was a good day." He muttered, wiping a tear of joy out is eye. "And then you threw eggs at her windows." Erol shot in, trying to get Praxis to his senses. He failed though, when Praxis wandered up to the door, and knocked loudly. An old lady appeared after a short while, and stared up at Praxis' looming figure. "Trick or Treat." Praxis said, smiling widely.

Erol wished he turned away, when the Lady sent her cat out at Praxis. It screeched and clawed at his crown, before Praxis pulled out an egg from the basket and pelted it at the cat. The cat meowed and darted back in the house, followed by the old lady. "Father, maybe we should just go to the corner store, and purchase your snacks? Huh? What do you say?" She looked at Praxis disappearing back. So, he must have gotten bored with her ramblings and headed off on his own.

"I think maybe we should try and lure him back to the palace," Erol muttered, turning to Ashelin who was surveying her father carefully. His crown was dangling off his left ear, and part of his cloak was torn. "Yes, I think you're right. But first…." Ashelin said, an odd glint in her eye as she looked at Erol. Erol feared where this was going. "Um, Ashelin, what exactly are you… ARRRGGGHHHH!!!!!" His pitiful scream echoed throughout the city, before Ashelin dropped him back on the ground, dressed in the pink dress she was previously wearing. "WWWHHHHYYYY!!!!!" He yelled, his hands gripping thin air as he screamed to the sky. Ashelin stalked off, well, kind off anyway. She kept tripping over because of the heavy armour and horse.

"I will _KILL_ you, Ashelin," Erol growled, standing up and brushing dirt off his dress. He adjusted his princess tiara, before attempting to walk in high heels. He managed to catch up to the other two, at some other house a few blocks away. Praxis was looking through his now full sack, and calculating what else he needed. "Sir, maybe you've got everything." Erol murmured, approaching the Baron's bent back.

"What are you talking about Ashelin? We still need fudge," Praxis replied, straightening up and closing his sack. "I'm Erol." Erol spat, standing with his arms crossed. "No you're not! That's you!" Praxis snorted, motioning to Ashelin who was trying to pull the helmet off her head. "But sir! She took my clothes!" Erol spat, pointing at her.

"Ashelin, Erol is not a girl. How can she have taken you're clothes anyway. You're wearing 'em!" Erol shook in rage at Praxis' last comment. His toleration span was getting shorter and shorter. "For the last time, I'm Erol!" He snapped, tugging the tiara off his head and throwing it forcefully at the ground. He smushed it further into the ground with his pink high heeled shoe. "I'm EROL!" He yelled, showing Praxis his bright orange hair. "See! EROL!" Praxis rolled his eyes and pointed at Ashelin.

"Ashelin, you need help. That is Erol." He said, pointing again at Ashelin, who had successfully removed the Knight's helmet off her head. "Father, he's telling the truth. I am your daughter." Ashelin interjected, grasping the helmet to her side. "Erol, I didn't know you were a girl, or my daughter." Praxis said in surprise, staring at Ashelin. "Father!"

"Ashelin, you didn't tell me you had a sister." Praxis snapped at Erol, who was removing his high heels. "For the god dam last time. I am Erol. That is Ashelin. She beat the living crxx outta me and stole my clothes! How small is you brain?!" Erol screamed, catching the attention of all the surrounding citizens. "My brain is quite large, Ashelin. And you, shut up Erol!" He spat, turning to Ashelin who was laughing quietly at Erol's face which had turned a nice shade of red due to rage.

"But Father, I am…" She didn't get time to finish, before Praxis communicator started beeping in his pocket. He took it out, and flicked it on. "Yes, your King speaking." Praxis said, trying to sound important. "Um, yeah sir. We seem to have a problem with the chef. He seems to think you took the only eggs in the palace, and wants them back." A guard's voice said, shaking from what sounded like fear.

"And?" Praxis said calmly, obviously not getting the drift. "Let me handle this!" Erol snapped, snatching the communicator out Praxis' hand. "Fine, we'll drop by the store and pick up another dozen. Tell the chef we'll be there soon." Erol muttered, flicking it off and tossing it back at Praxis. "Princesses aren't meant to upstage kings, upstager!" Praxis snarled, striding over to Erol. "Sir, we have to get some more eggs, and return home. Please don't tell me you used up all forty eggs?" Erol said, looking at the nearby houses which were covered from roof to floor in splattered egg.

"It seems so," Ashelin replied, checking the now empty basket. "So what if I did! It means we can go trick or treating!" He yelled in joy, running off into the distance towards a corner store. Erol looked at Ashelin, who held the same, confused look on her face as he did. So, Praxis went Trick or treating to restock on food, but went shopping for…… "Maybe we should just go home and leave him here," Erol suggested, kicking the high heel away from him and pointing into the distant shop with Praxis at the counter.

"I think I'll have to listen to you on this occasion." Ashelin replied, forcing the helmet back over her head. So, they decided to abandon 'King Praxis' to head home and watch telly. It had been an awful 'shopping' experience for both, and neither of them could understand why Praxis chose to harass people at eight at night for food, when he could easily just drop by the store and buy snacks. After this, no one heard of or saw Baron Praxis again…until that dreadful day when the Ice cream truck with it's kiddy music drove through Haven city, and Praxis came out of hiding to chase it. What a sad day that was…

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**Corad: So, was this ok? Or bad....or....bad? I really need a life don't I. Well, Bijoux is complaining that she gave me the idea about trick or treating. I don't actually know if this was true or not, but if it is, some credit should go to her...but I wrote it.....trust me....I wrote it.....Oh, and also, we were both wondering that if anyone reviews, if you could give us a guess of Erol's appoximate age. We've been pondering over this for a bit, and kinda hope maybe someone knows, or would like to suggest their guess. We have this feeling that he's in his early twenties, but would really like to know. Thankies pples...see ya for now!**


	7. Desert Fiends

**Bijoux: The three main components for this stupidity are Pepsi, Coffee and Chocolate...but another way to sum it up...just blame it on the caffeine...anywho...I don't own "Jak and Daxter"... This contains mild spoilers for Jak3...**

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Palace Stories…May have been exaggerated…**

**Desert Fiends… **

**Note: NOT cyber Erol**

Erol sighed as he drove at top speed through the desert. He was angry at a lot of things at the moment…most of them including Praxis and that automatic eggbeater of his…

The desert was Erol's new get away from the moron's back in Haven city. Although Veger had been seen driving about aimlessly in the tough puppy vehicle, his legs too big to fit under the dash so his knees stuck up at his head level.

Erol was enjoying the peace and quiet. Even though the marauders were harassing him with their 'we're so good!' stance (a/n: God I hate these guys…).

He began to relax as he drove along in the dust demon. The silence and peace however was soon broken by another engine coming up next to him. Erol turned his head across and sure enough it was Veger…the same Vegerish Veger that drives the tough puppy about aimlessly…he knees…? Yep they were visible…just like when he tries to ride Bumper Cars at the fair…well at least he doesn't pull a Praxis and get stuck in the damn thing…then start to panic and scream before he forces his fat legs through the bottom of the car and runs off screaming, the vehicle around his waist.

Erol moaned with hatred at the sight of Veger hunched over the steering wheel as he giggled like a school girl eating cheese cake. Veger stared straight ahead of him while Erol just glared at his newest threat.

It appeared that maybe Veger wanted to have a drag race with Erol.

"Give it up Commander; I'm too fast for you!" Veger called towards Erol, before running straight into a massive desert rock and blowing up. The funny thing was he never even looked away from where he was going…so technically…

Erol rolled his eyes. He really didn't want to now whether Veger was sober or not…if he had turned into anything like the rest of the council then he'd probably had to much rum and was on the verge of dancing with cactuses, whilst wearing lamp shades other their heads…

Erol soon began to focus on other things from Veger. He was happily enjoying himself when another vehicle came up to him. Erol sighed as he glanced towards the larger vehicle.

"I own this crap trap of a desert!!!!" Praxis screamed from atop the massive Ram Rod. He was treating it like a horse and carriage as he whipped the bonnet. He had reins attached to the large horn at the front of the vehicle, and was standing up instead of sitting in the seat like a normal human being…though it is Praxis we're talking about…so…you know…

"Sir?! What the hell are you doing here…? You're meant to be running the city…!" Erol called at the massive blob on legs, later renamed, 'lard on legs'…

"Oh, I gave that role to that guy with the greeny, yellow hair and his pet rat…" Praxis chuckled as he lashed out and whipped the front tires.

Erol rolled his eyes.

"But he's the enemy!!!" Erol screamed in confusion. Praxis chuckled at this.

"Oh commander…there you go jumping to your conclusions again…That guy isn't so bad once you get to know him…He's actually really giving-full…see, he gave me this pitch fork, for free!" Praxis called over to Erol. Praxis turned around and pointed to a pitch fork that had been stabbed into his backside, probably out of hatred, "_jealously_" and rage.

Erol rolled his eyes as Praxis began to whip the tires again. Praxis soon got tired of this and fell asleep at the wheel, he soon drifted off coarse and into the ocean, where the ram rod rusted, and the octopus ate it.

And so Erol continued to plodder along. It wasn't long before Dark Jak appeared alongside Erol, driving in the sand shark.

"You're worthless and WEAK!!" Dark Jak screamed at Erol, spit flying everywhere. Most things that got hit with spit began to melt away as if it had been touched by acid…

Erol rolled his eyes as he glanced at Dark Jak. Dark Jak cackled like a lunatic before he turned at a sharp angle and began to drive away from Erol, his head turned completely around as he disappeared off a cliff, still laughing like a freak.

"Okay…" Erol sighed as he continued along the desert. Everything soon went back in place and Erol wasn't harassed for a record of ten minutes of his life. He felt pleased with peace and quiet.

But all good things come to an end at some point…and yes…it would end with Damas driving a stolen Nun bus towards Erol. Damas pulled up alongside Erol.

The stolen bus had monster truck wheels and had been given installments of turbo boosters and weapon launchers. Erol sighed irritably at the mere thought of it all.

"DIE!!!!" Seem screamed as she poked her head out of one of the windows and threw an empty can of beer at Erol's head…heh…empty can…figures… Erol hissed and cringed as the can hit his temple.

Erol looked up at the bus and nearly screamed when he realized all the people he despised so much. There was Daxter, Ashelin, Brutter, Keira, Jak, Praxis, Veger, Kor, Seem, Samos, Torn, Vin, Kliever, Onin, Pecker, Tess, Sig, Damas and Jinx, he hated them all so much and they just had to be traveling in a bus right next to him. Hissing, booing and throwing things out the windows.

Erol was pelted with numerous things…Damas' cat…Damas' son (little Jak/Mar)…Sig's peace maker…Jinx's discarded cigarettes…Keira's spanner…Praxis' wedding dress…Jak's Pickachu Plush toy…Daxter's prechewed pizza…Tess' head band…Ashelin's letter to Santa…Seem's six pack of beers…Praxis' eyeliner…Kleiver's walking stick/staff…Kor's beard (which got caught in the front tire of Erol's vehicle and began to rotate around as he drove)…Onin's machete…Pecker's homemade brewery set…Brutter's stall…Veger's my little pony doll…Vin's complete set of an ironing board, an iron and it's cord attached to a chunk of wall…Torn's tickle me Elmo…Samos' walking stick attached to a chain which was used to reel the stick back in so it could get thrown at Erol again…Daxter's washing machine…Praxis' easy bake oven for kids…the list went on…

Erol glared at the road ahead of him as he traveled along. He was hunched other the steering wheel. Rage burning within him. It wasn't long though, before the whole bus ordeal ended.

"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIL IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!" Damas had screamed towards Erol as he threw the steering wheel out the window as it if was a Frisbee…

The bus had soon begun to swerve about and it wasn't long before they had all plummeted off a cliff. They were never seen again…

THE NEXT DAY…

"So you're telling me…that this…can't go there…?" Jak asked Samos as he picked up a puzzle piece and hovered it in his mouth.

"Jak…For the last time no…it goes here…" Samos replied as he flicked the puzzle piece into Damas' eye.

"Ah…peace and quiet in my own home for once…" Erol sighed as he entered the lounge room of the palace happily…he however would soon be sadly mistaken.

"WHAT?! What are you people still doing alive?!" Erol screamed when he realized that everyone from the bus incident had appeared in the lounge of the palace.

Everyone turned away from their raiding adventures and looked at Erol before shrugging and muttering about 'how should they know' and so on.

Everyone fell silent...

The silence however was broken when Seem ran into the lounge room, dressed in a brown bath rug. She was holding the rolling pin in one hand the other held a bottle of beer.

"Look everyone! I'm Damas!" Seem said as she stumbled about like the drunk she was. Everyone but Ashelin and Erol cheered at this…it was gonna be a long night…

And so…a party soon broke out…and yes it did much resemble Praxis' sleepover of torment…in fact it was just the same thing except a different reason for it beginning. Erol was even forced to replace damages again…he had to replace the ceiling fan, the dishwasher, the vacuum cleaner, the ironing bored (which had been ridden down the staircase by the triplets fat, AKA Damas, Kliever and Praxis) , the mop, the chandelier, the sofa, the front door (which too was ridden down the stair case), the blender, the antiques cabinet (which was ridden by Samos and Kor, down a mountain side somewhere near Haven Forest) and lastly the bath rug.

**END…? **

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Corad: Yeah, I kinda invented the whole bus incident with the Monster Truck wheels, but Bijoux added in what they were actually doing on it. Also Praxis driving in Ram 'Rod was thought of by me. God, how I love the name Rad 'Rod. It so funny...

Bijoux: Please review...


	8. Tray Drag Race

**Corad: Hey ppls. This is a new edition to palace stories. It's fairly funny, so I hope you'll enjoy it. Also, thanks heaps for the encouraging reviews. Every last one of those reviews make us write more stupidity to add to the already stupid enough story.**

**I don't own Jak and Daxter, the trays from McDonald's or Colin and Christie from the fifth Amazing Race series. **

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Palace Stories – May have been exaggerated**

**Tray Drag Race**

It was going to be a perfect day for Erol. He had it all planned out. Yes, today was the day he was going to ask for a pay rise. So, the young commander stumbled into the throne room, with the highest spirits ever in his puny life, only to be met by an empty throne. The Baron was missing.

"Oh no! He's raiding my fridge!" Erol screamed in horror, dashing out the room and following the red carpet to his own bedroom. Sure enough, Praxis was on his knees, head and arms stuck in the fridge. "Ooo, Erol's left some pudding in here. Heheheheheh….god he's a moron." Erol strode over to Praxis' hunched back, and tugged him out the fridge.

"Sir, what are you doing to my fridge?!" he spat, looking at all the brown, gooey mess all over the Baron's face. "Oh, I ah…..thought that maybe….ya know….." he didn't actually finish what he was saying. Instead he just strolled out, wiping his chocolate pudding covered hands on his…shirt…. "Sir, why can't you just raid your own fridge, in the kitchen! I HAVE LIMITED FOOD!"

So, poor, innocent, destructive Erol began to clean up all the gooey pudding from everything. He even had to scrub it off his ceiling. After what seemed like ages, he threw the bucket and mop out the door, and admired his work. Yes, it was clean again. "Um, say ah, Erol. How 'bout you, me and a couple of the guys go drag racing?" Praxis had returned, carrying what looked like six McDonald's trays.

"Sir, what _exactly_ are those?" he asked, looking at the brown, plastic trays.

"Oh, heh, they're our drag racing vehicles," Praxis replied, handing one over to Erol. "Meet me and the guys in the hall when ya in ya drag race uniform. We'll be waiting for ya!" Praxis strolled out….again…..this time carrying five trays. Erol looked down at his selected "vehicle", and snorted. Where or how they were going to race on these was still a mystery.

It wasn't long before Erol walked out his room, his racing mask on his head ready. He saw five others gathered around the foot of the stairs, and knew by instinct where the race was going to be held. "By order of my father, we are going to race down this five story staircase, to see who gets this," Ashelin instructed, holding up a tray of what looked like Erol's pudding.

"Hey, that's mine!" he shouted, storming over to the plate and glaring at it. Praxis snorted from his position near the banister. "Oh right Erol. A wonderful, Magical pudding." Everyone looked at him in a strange way. What he just said didn't make the slightest bit of sense. "Um, maybe we should like, get this thing like, going?" a Krimzon guard by the name of Skye said (Yeah, he is a hippy. Go figure with a name like that).

"But Praxis sir. You're not actually going to hold this dumb race just to win my pudding? If you wanted it that bad, why didn't you just nick off with it?" Erol asked, watching as Ashelin, Skye, Travis (another Krimzon guard) and Colin (second place winner in amazing race 5) laid their trays at the foot of the stairs. "Oh Erol. I did nick it. This is just that other one I found in your freezer," Praxis replied, putting his tray on the ground too.

"Ok, everyone get ready. The race will begin shortly," Torn muttered, appearing out of thin air. Erol spun around to see him standing on the antique rug that Erol's grandma had made him. "What are you doing here?!" he hissed, dropping his tray beside Praxis'. Torn pointed to Ashelin. "She said if I didn't come, be prepared for world war 3," he replied, kicking at the rug in boredom.

Erol screamed at the mere sight of his rug being kicked at, but didn't have time to argue and rant on to Torn due to the fact that he shot his gun for the start of race. Where the bullet actually went nobody knew, but there was a loud scream from above, so Erol figured it went through the ceiling and hit Veger who was probably at his desk doing paper work.

"I own this city!" Praxis shouted, pulling out the same whip he used on the Ram 'Rod (in the last chapter). He began to whip at the small tray beneath him, forcing it to slide faster down the stairs. The others risked a glance at him, trying to work out why he just said that. Everybody in Haven city knew he owned it, so why state the obvious?

"Father, I will win that pudding, and eat it so slowly in front of you wiener eyes that you'll have a heart attack and give me the city!" Ashelin roared, ramming into Skye to get him out her way. Skye yelped as his tray flew sideways into the wall, and started sparking (how this happens, don't ask me. To be honest, even I didn't know Plastic could spark).

Meanwhile, at the back of the drag race, Travis was having difficulty telling Colin that he was only in this because Praxis had forced him. "But Man, I don't even like pudding!" he called, gripping onto the sides of the tray as best he could. Colin just glared in rage at him, his face a bright red colour. "Liar!" he spat, leaning over and pushing his tray into Travis'. Erol decided to keep at a safe distance. Whether he won his own pudding back or not didn't matter. He was more concerned about staying alive.

By the looks of it too, Travis was having trouble keeping on his "vehicle" due to Colin ramming into him again, and again, and again. (A/N for those of you who don't know him, he was a contestant in the amazing Race 5, and he had an attitude problem. That is, he blamed everyone and everything for his own mistakes) Erol thought that maybe he could just attempt to stop his tray sliding at top speed, and just run back to his room.

"Quit it Man! Seriouslarrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh!!!!!" Poor, poor Travis. He was thrown with such force off his tray, and lay in a crumpled heap a few meters up the staircase. Erol shivered at the sight, knowing it was his turn next. Sure enough, Colin turned an aggravated face to him, his eyes gleaming in determination and rage. "Die," he hissed at Erol, begging to slide over towards him.

Erol began panicking, and leaned forward to pick up speed so he could escape the wrath of Colin, the mental institution material. With a bit of luck, he managed to get away from Colin, and could hear him screaming like a native warrior about to go into battle. Erol sighed in relief, but noticed where he was now currently sitting. Yes, it was in between Praxis and his Daughter. "Oh no," he cried, putting his racing mask securely over his face. And so it began. Praxis rammed into one side of Erol, Ashelin the other, until Ashelin lost her balance and fell off the tray. Now only Praxis was at it, smashing into Erol over and over again, attempting to kill him by the looks of it.

"Sir, I have no intention of winning. Why I'm in this drag race, even I don't know!" Erol shouted behind his mask. Praxis must have thought Erol shouted an insult or abused him or something, because next thing Erol knew, he was being whipped constantly in the side of the face. "SIR!" he screamed, glad that his mask was protecting most of his face – note: MOST.

"Give it up Commander! I am the ruler, and I will kick your sorry ass to hell!" Praxis roared, nudging Erol harshly over to the side of the staircase. It was only now that Erol realized that Skye was gone. When or where he fell off and admitted defeat wasn't answered, but all Erol knew was that he was in a better place (Shows Skye raiding Erol's fridge upstairs). "Commander, I've never said this before, but I hate your spinach puffs," Erol glanced at Praxis, who was looking down miserably at his tray.

"What?! I never made any spinach puffs!" Erol shouted back, and was met by another wave of whipping. How Praxis had mistaken that for an insult, god only knows. Erol was happy though, when the whipping suddenly stopped, and he looked to where the Baron used to be beside him. It was only empty, empty space, so Erol looked behind him, and saw Praxis, pretending to be dead up the top of the second story staircase, holding half his tray. By what Erol could make out, Praxis' weight had obviously been too much for the tray, and it had snapped in half.

"Lasted longer than I expected it too, I guess," Erol murmured to himself, taking one last glance at the disappearing Praxis, before resting his eyes on Colin, who was screaming abusive insults at his tray. "You stupid heap of crp! Don't make me come down there!" Erol swallowed hard, and gripped the sides tightly. Any minute now, Colin would catch up, and start ramming him into the wall again.

"God, save me. Show mercy!" Erol cried, turning his head slightly to the side to see Colin inch his way forward. "Your ass is mine!" he snarled, grinning cruelly as the trays got closer and closer together. "No, NO, NNNOOOO!!!!!" And yes, that was it. Colin had rammed his full weight against Erol, and his tray had exploded in a mass of shattered plastic. Erol tumbled for a bit, before sitting up, removing is mask just to see Colin turn the stair corner and slide out of sight. He could hear maniacal laughing echoing up the staircase, before a huge scream and cheer of victory.

Colin, the second place winner in the race around the world for a million dollars, had finally won something. "I win! Beat that, losers!" Erol heard him scream, before the front door of the palace was slammed. Torn appeared, wiping his hands on his pants. He sneered at Erol, before saying something like Colin won so he gave him the pudding.

"NNNOOOOOOOAAAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Erol cried, pounding his fist into the carpet on the stair he was currently lying on. Somewhere outside the palace though, Colin was bragging to Christie (his race partner for amazing race) about his victory in winning the drag race. "SO what Colin. It's just pudding," she spat, glaring at him as he devoured the whole plate by himself.

"Look ok! Don't crush the only pride I got left. At least I won this contest!" he said, bits of pudding falling out his mouth as he spoke. Christie gave him a disgusted look before turning away.

And so, the morale to this story is to.....um…lock your bedroom door so Barons don't nick food out your bar fridge, and force you to drag race them to get it back. Yeah, I think that's it.

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**Corad: If you're wondering where I got the idea of them racing on MacDonald's trays, it was from the time I went on a ski trip with the school last June, and a few of the guys nicked some trays from McDonald's restaurant nearby, and slid down the ski slope with them. They thought it would be a great way to toboggan. After that, I never saw the trays again.**

**Also, for any of you who have completed Jak2, if you want to see a major game screw up, go to Haven Forest where you give young Samos that seed once you've finished the game, and you'll see he's still sitting there on the ground, even though he went back in the past. I laughed for ages at it. You guys wouldn't believe how many stuff ups we've encounted, but they're just so funny when they happen. **

**I hope you enjoyed this, and feel free to leave a review!**


	9. Bogey Man Myth

**Corad: Yep, here's another installment full of idiotic things. This chapter is based on another episode segment of The Simpsons. I tried to make it as funny as I could, but it's kinda hard when you're working with an already made script. **

**Well, I don't own Jak and Daxter or the Simpsons.....obviously.....but hey, I hope you like this chapter all the same!**

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Palace Stories – may have been exaggerated**

**The Bogey Man Myth**

Another night at the palace. (A/n I wonder where this is going?) It was silent along the halls, and in every room. Everyone was sleeping peacefully, apart from Ashelin who was tossing and turning. She was having a nightmare (this time not because Praxis arrived to dinner only wearing panties and a bra), and woke with a loud scream. She jumped out of bed, panicking, and ran to Praxis' room.

Praxis' bedroom door opened up quickly, and Ashelin ran in, yelling for her father to wake up. He opened his one eye slowly, and gazed around, before spotting Ashelin standing next to the bed, leaning over him. "Dad! Dad! I had a bad dream!" Ashelin cried, her eyes darting nervously about. Praxis sat up, and yawned. "It'll be ok honey. You just sit down and tell me all about it," Praxis reassured, patting his king size bed mattress, indicating for her to sit down.

She didn't though, and just continued standing beside him, fidgeting her hands. "Well, it may seem a bit absurd, but I had a dream that the Bogey man was after me, and he…." She said, trying to keep her voice calm but was failing miserably.

"Bogey Man!?" Praxis screamed, jumping out of bed and running to his door, like an elephant on drugs (A/n Bijoux added the elephant thing. Can ya tell?). He stopped and turned around quickly to face his daughter. "Quick, you go lock the doors and windows! I'll go get the gun!" he shouted drastically, sprinting down the hall to the weapon cupboard. Ashelin did what she was asked, and locked every door and window in the palace – took her ages seeing the windows and doors never end.

A little while later, both Praxis and Ashelin were huddled in the hall outside Erol's room. Praxis had thought it be a wise idea to tell Erol that there was a bogey man in the palace, just in case it went in his room and ate him.

Erol was happily dreaming of blasting the heads off the slack asses in his guard squad, when he was woken up, a rifle just inches from his face. He sat up in panic, and stared at Praxis and Ashelin, who were both looking like they had seen a ghost. "Erol, I don't mean to alarm you, but there may be a bogey man or bogey men in the palace!" Praxis said, his voice forced to a calm tone.

Erol screamed too, before tossing back his sheets and jumping out of his bed. He ran to his day clothes, and grabbed his shotgun from its holder. So, together the three caused massive destruction to the palace. They had crawled around the place, their guns ready incase the bogey man or bogey men jumped out at them. Even Ashelin had found her shot gun, and was using it as a defensive weapon, gripped tightly in her hand as she rolled about on the floor.

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**Veger's POV**

It had been a pretty long night for Veger, and he was on his way home from the Naughty Ottsel. He'd been spending enormous hours there, just sitting at the slot machine gambling. He'd looked at the time ten minutes ago, and realized just how late it was (2:00am) and decided to go home. He walked quickly through the almost deserted streets to the palace, and came to a halt just outside. Something didn't seem right. He couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Hello?!" he called, stepping into the entrance hall of the palace after having to unlock the front door. He got no answer, but there was till something disturbing here. So, he made his way up the six flights of stairs, and stopped in front of his bedroom door. He stared in horror at it. For some reason, there were lots of bullet holes in the wood and the wall opposite it.

He opened the door carefully, to see his massive, four poster bed turned over on its side, and all his belongings thrown about the room. He also noticed the tips of three pairs of ears, a large rifle and two shot guns faced at him from behind his bed. "Oh my lord! What happened here!?" he cried, stepping further into his room. Praxis' rifle shook in his grip, before it was lowered to the ground.

"Oh, nothing Veger. Just a little incident involving the bogey man!" Praxis shouted, standing up from his position behind the bed. Erol and Ashelin stood up too, putting there guns down. "Maybe if you had been here to stop me from acting stupid!" Praxis continued, as Veger looked from the Baron, to Ashelin, to Erol and then to the large mess he once called his bedroom.

It was silent for a bit, before Erol walked past them all, his gun held tightly in his hand. "Even if Veger was here, it wouldn't have made any difference," he said quietly to Ashelin, who had decided to join Erol in leaving the room. "Maybe next time I won't tell father my dreams. Who ever thought he'd turn into an idiot," Ashelin replied, hearing Veger and Praxis yelling at each other about Bogey Men and arguing whether they were myths or not.

So, from that day on, Ashelin never told Praxis her nightmares again. She told Erol instead, but even then, the same thing happened. He overreacted, thought the dream was real, and destroyed half the palace. So, the moral to this chapter, is too always write your dreams in the little diary under you pillow and not tell anyone else. Well, unless your diary is the sort that says "Unauthorized User. Access denied!" before it electricutes you. Yes, this diary could be a problem.

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**Corad: Um, if you didn't understand the diary thing, seeing it can electricute people for self defense, what's stopping it from blowing up the palace when it becomes freaked out like Praxis? Nyeh, anyhow. I hope this one was alright. My sister has a really funny one planned out, but she just has to get off her lazy backside and write it. All I'm saying is it contains Praxis on a certain forklift. **

**I hope you guys enjoyedthat and I'll start prodding Bijoux to get writing. Please review, cause we love them so much. It also helps withthe writing of the stupidity.**


	10. Blow Up Day

**Corad: Hi guys! Yes, it's me again. And no, it's not the forklift episode yet. I've had a serious case of chronic nagging this week to get my sister (aka Bijoux) to write it, but she complains that her brain isn't full of suger enough to write stupidity. So, this is just another chapter for the meantime. I hope you like it, coz it didn't really have a proper plot to it. Enjoy!**

**We don't own J and D, and we never will (distant cheering) Also, I've kinda bashed the Baron a bit in here, but to let you know, I like the Baron. We also don't own a couple ofquotes from the Simpsons.**

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Palace Stories - may have been exaggerated (what am I saying may for. It _has_ been exaggerated)**

**Blow up Day**

The inhabitants of the palace were all doing their own things. Erol was reading the newspaper on the dunny (toilet), Veger was scrubbing Baron filth off his hair dryer, Ashelin was rummaging around the lounge for the nail polish that mysteriously vanished (cough – Praxis – cough) and Praxis…he was doing the things that Praxis does best – damage.

"Oh, my little beauty. Make your dada proud, and explode this trash heap known as Ashelin's room!" Praxis roared, tucking the Baron based bomb into Ashelin's four-poster bed. He laughed manically before leaping into the nearby closet and shutting the door. He waited patiently for the loud explosive noise, before he stepped out into the half destroyed…. wait…completely destroyed room.

"Yes, all the goodness of killing rooms. Makes me proud to be the Baron," the Baron said, his eye tearing in joy. He gazed around happily at the torn apart curtains, the charcoaled carpet, the shredded bed sheets, the blown-up-to-smithereens dresser, even the lamp that was now lying shattered on the ground made him smile in bliss. Yes, he was proud to be the baron…

"Father, I heard an explosion and I……….WHAT DID YOU DO TO MY ROOM?!" Ashelin shrieked when she walked in her room, grabbing her head in horror and looking around at the remnants of her cherished room. Baron Praxis just stood silently, his eye darting nervously about. "Well, um Ashelin sweetie. There comes a time in every Baron's life, where he blows up his guard's room," he said casually, watching as his daughter collapsed on her knees and grabbed the very lamp Praxis had laughed at only moments before.

"Oh yeah?! You didn't blow up Erol's room!" she spat, glaring at him, the biggest hint of rage in her raging eye. Just at that moment, another explosion was heard from down the hall, and a girly scream echoed soon after it. Praxis chuckled to himself, wiping another tear of joy out his left eye. Today was going just as he had planned, and that made him happy to its fullest extent.

"Baron, why did you put _this…_in my room?!" the commander spat with lack of tolerance as he entered Ashelin's blown up room. The baron turned to see Erol holding up a shard of bomb, with the lettering – Baron based bomb – written on it. Praxis slapped his hand forcefully on Erol's back in a fit of laughter, making the commander drop the shard of bomb.

It fell, hit the floor, and blew up some more of Ashelin's room. There was a minute of hazy smoky fog, before it cleared to show all three elves charcoaled black. Praxis was still laughing uncontrollably, even though both Erol and Ashelin were approaching him, fists clenched and faces contorted in fury. He didn't notice though, and walked out, still carrying on like he'd lost the plot.

His day was perfect. He had killed two birds with one stone, and was going for another attack – cough Veger cough. So, he began his mystical journey up the hallway, and into the attic where Veger was forced to live, after Praxis blew up his previous room yesterday. It had been a great day too yesterday. Praxis had both targeted and destroyed Veger's room, his study, his ensuite, his spa bath, his old hair dryer (two hours later) his washing machine, his lamp shade, his chimney sweep, his old rug and his favorite recipe book. He had hoped Veger had replaced all the blown up items during the night, so he could have a repeat today.

So, Praxis crept loudly – note: loudly to the attic door, and opened it slightly. He peered in and glanced around, just to be sure Veger was out and about like he always was. Satisfied with the findings of a deserted room, Praxis tiptoed in, and pulled a large bomb out his shirt (A/n if you do the math right, a large bomb wouldn't even fit in his shirt) He placed it on Veger's bed, and tucked it in just like he tucked Ashju in (Ashelin Junior he christened the last bomb) The bomb sat snuggly in Veger's small, crummy bed and ticked away happily.

The Baron cried in joy when he kissed the bomb goodnight, and ran for the door. He closed it quietly, and put his fingers in his ears, waiting for the bomb to go off. It did go off shortly afterwards, but the door was flung open before Praxis could even touch the handle. The Baron looked up and removed hisfingers guiltily, as he faced a brick red and charcoaled black Veger, standing at the door.

His eye was twitching rather unpleasantly, and his hands clenched into little balls and shook in rage. Yes, he was angry again. "Baron Praxis. Why did you have to destroy my only love and joy…AGAIN?!" he spat, spit flying out and colliding with Praxis metal on his face. His metal began to melt and spark, so Praxis took a few steps back.

"Oh, well ya see Vegut…." Praxis began in an all knowingly tone. Veger's eye twitched again "It's VEGER!" he spat in return. "Whatever," the baron retorted in the whole, popular girl manner and the hand flick thing. "I was saying, Vegut, that in every Baron's life, he blows up his guard's room," Praxis finished, rolling his eyes as a sign of abusing Veger's lack of understanding of the concept. (a/n I know Veger is isn't in the guard, but it makes it funnier)

Before the head of council had time to react, the Baron had already begun his magical journey away from the now, totally ruined attic. So, the Baron's mood went from satisfied, to happy, to even happier, to the happiest happy ever. And, what he did next just made the scale of happiness rise even more. He had figured out that over twenty guards had ignorantly called the palace home, and he had counted that he had over fifty Baron based bombs left in his room.

So, he put twenty and fifty together, and blew up the majority of the palace. He was met by a tidal wave of insults, yells, abusive yells, screams, rotten food, toilet paper rolls, eggs and anything else angry people throw at others. He skipped merrily down the hall, hands raised above his head in victory, as object after insult collided with him.

From somewhere down the hall, Ashelin and Erol were holding cream pies each, ready for when the Baron made his infamous appearance down the hall. Yes, they were ready all right, seeing this certain problem had been occurring ever since Praxis had found the recipe to make bombs. Ever since about two weeks ago. The way they saw it though, was after the Baron had finished blowing people's bedrooms to pieces – in Veger's case, the attic – he usually got a good night's sleep. He wasn't seen or heard rampaging back and forth to the kitchen like an overweight rhino at night, which made most people a little happier, even though they had to camp out in the lounge for their lack of rooms.

Camping out in the lounge was fun though, up until the part when Praxis appeared at two in the morning one night, woke everyone up, scared the living day lights outta a few guards, and threw a party. He had claimed it was a family reunion party when a bunch of street bums appeared, smelling like street bums. So, after this certain incident, the whole palace cleared out, and stayed with Torn in the puny underground.

Praxis began to get depressed from lack of room blowing up fun, so he blew up his own room, again, and again, and again – until he had to move into the guest room. Same thing happened though, so this bit of the story just repeats itself for, as many times there are rooms. Let's just say that when the Palace was completely destroyed and turned into rubble, he went and stayed in the over crowded underground, and blew that up too.

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**Corad: O......kay......you're probably all thinking " What the hell was that?!" but yeah, I wrote it last night coz Bijoux wouldn't write the other one. Don't worry, it's coming very soon, I'll make sure of it (pulls out all time famous whacking stick) Heh....**

**We found another game screw up like young Samos in the forest thing. Just go into the Naughty Ottsel/ Hip Hog saloon, get Jak behind the counter, and put the camera as close to him and his reflection in the mirror. You'll see his mirror reflection has the Dark Jak horns on his head. Very wierd but funny...**

**Um, please review. It'll make Bijoux write Forklift Praxis faster. **


	11. Baron Forklift

**Corad: Whoot! It's finally here, thank god! Yes, this had me laughing so hard I had tears running down my face. So, if this doesn't get you guys rolling around on the floor, struggling to breath, then I don't know what will. **

**Bijoux: Err...sorry about being so lazy...firstly, I don't own the "Jak and Daxter" series. Corad also kinda thought of a Spice Girls song for some strange, apparent reason and I decided that I could imagine the Baron driving a vehicle to it so yeah...they're in here, and they're kinda being bashed so if you like them...firstly, you need a life, and secondlyI'm sorry for bashing them. If you don't know who the Spice Girls are, you're one lucky person. **

**Warning: Do not read this where lots of people are around, who are most likely gonna stare at you and believe you've gone mad if you start laughing out loud too hard. **

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Palace Stories- Has been exaggerated…?**

**Baron Forklift**

It was a grand day in Haven city. The citizens were happily minding their own business. And the happy thoughts that Baron Praxis wasn't allowed to leave the palace, due to a recent 'shopping' trip, drifted through Jak's head as he walked out the underground. It was going to be a grand day…well…it was...up until…

"Attention all citizen of Haven City," A guard was nervously muttering into a speaker thingy (you know those things around Haven, and the Baron talks through them), "The baron has escaped. He has been spotted in the slums driving some form of Forklift! Now is the time to panic!" none of the citizens seemed to panic from the guard's words.

"HE HAS ALREADY RUN OVER A HOT DOG STAND!!!" The city erupted with screams at the mere thought of a hotdog stand broken in the middle of the street. Jak screamed like a little girl. He turned around to face the exit of the slums and almost died at the mere sight of citizens rampaging out of the slums, their arms in the air.

"DIE CITY!!" Praxis growled from his position, hunched over the steering wheel of a yellow, stolen forklift. The baron drove towards the industrial section, only to be stopped when he drove into a ditch and couldn't get out. Jak was speechless with fear, as the wheels of the forklift rotated pathetically trying to escape. Jak screamed before backing away, towards the underground.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRGH!!!" Praxis roared as he revved the engine of his new found friend (shows Erol back at the palace, whimpering and crying as he's hunched over a picture of him and the Baron at Erol's 21st birthday. Praxis is stuffing his face with cake).

"YOU STUPID PIG!!!" Praxis yelled at the forklift's actions.

"Now sir, that's no way to react when you see your reflection in the rear view mirror…" A guard sighed as he patrolled past.

"I know…" Praxis whimpered as he stared at his lap with shame. Jak whimpered at the sight of the top of the forklift visible over the rim of the ditch (this is one of those big longs holes is the slums. Ya know those ones with the bridges?), the top of Praxis' head was visible over the top as well.

Praxis looked above the hole and spotted Veger, casually walking past, while other citizens were running around him screaming and crying and partly begging for mercy from god.

"Hey!! YOU! GET YOUR PATHETIC ASS OVER HERE!!" Praxis roared as he flung a lassoed rope around Veger's waist and pulled a whip out of nowhere. "Get me the hell outta here Vebutt!" Praxis screamed enthusiastically as he lashed the whip out at Veger.

"But sir…" Veger began to protest but was stopped when Praxis' second best friend in the world appeared (aka the whip. Shows the cook crying over a massive chocolate cake labeled, "Baron Praxis is my Best Friend"). Veger cringed as the whip collided with his eye.

Veger began to pull the forklift out of the hole with all his might. It wasn't long before people around started to join hands and sing songs about god and peace for some strange reason. Some guards in the background began cheering, "Take him! Take HIIIM!"…Probably referring to Veger and the forklift…

Jak screamed before turning around and darting towards the underground. Veger managed to pull the forklift out of the ditch and was panting as the baron tugged at the rope.

"This is boring…" Praxis moaned as he fiddled with some controls. He soon came to halt at a red button labeled magnet. He pushed the button and the forklift gained magnetic energy. Praxis became proud of meddling with the controls. Veger screamed as a zoomer with some one on it came hurdling straight for him and the magnetized forklift.

The zoomer crashed into Veger and sent them both hurdling towards the forklift. Praxis laughed like a lunatic as the zoomer exploded sending the driver and Veger flying into the distance. A loud explosion occurred when they both landed in the industrial section.

The Baron continued to laugh as he turned the magnet off and headed towards the underground. Jak ran down the stairs of the underground heading towards Torn and his desk.

"What the hell…?!" Torn screamed towards Jak and the completely ignored until now, Daxter.

"It's coming!" Jak whimpered as tears streamed down his sorry for face.

"What…?" Torn mumbled with hatred.

"YO, I'll tell ya what I want, what I really, really want,

So tell me what I want what I really, really want!!" Praxis had turned on his CD player. It appeared that he had installed a massive loud speaker onto the roof of the forklift. He was singing along to his favorite track, "The Spice Girls: Wannabe" song. The music got louder as Praxis approached the underground. He stuck the forks of his vehicle into the underground door and ripped it off.

"Face it Jak! I have to kill you! You're destroying my perfectly good city! SOON IT WILL BE NOTHING BUT RUBBLE, THANKS TO YOU!!" (Remember this quote) Praxis screamed into the hallway of Torn's hideout.

"Oh my god…" Torn was speechless with rage and fear at the sight of Praxis slowly backing away, with his door, the forklift beeping as it moved.

Praxis rammed into a building behind him. The wall of the building began to crack and crumble, while windows shattered all over the place. Praxis lifted the forks and the door flew off and hurdled into the distant, hitting other buildings and vehicles causing them to catch alight and destroy the city.

Praxis began to head forward again as he forced his way through the tiny doorway. He tore apart the underground walls causing Torn to burst into tears as the bunk beds caught alight for no real reason…Praxis hadn't even entered a large part of the underground yet, but destruction was already occurring.

"RUUUUUUN!!" Daxter screamed as Jak grabbed the shocked and or appalled Torn and headed towards the forklift. Jak climbed through the forklift and over Praxis. Praxis growled as Jak sabotaged his territory.

Jak ran out the Underground and towards a zoomer. He jumped on it and drove for his life. Praxis screamed before reversing out the underground and into the already half destroyed building behind him. The building collapsed completely into a pile of worthless rubble.

"You can't run for ever!" Praxis screamed at Jak as he caught up to the blue zoomer. Torn was dangling off the back, he was in some kind of trance.

"He………he…he killed my baby…he…my baby…my…killed…he…" Torn was whimpering as his unfocused eyes welled tears.

"That's why I got the zoomer!!" Jak called at Praxis.

"Oh…okay! Fair enough!!" Praxis called back happily. Jak flew into the industrial section, he spotted Veger half dead, sprawled across the pavement of the ground.

Jak made a sharp turn and sped away from Praxis, Torn flew off the back of the zoomer and went flying straight for Praxis.

"Oh no you don't Jak!!" Praxis screamed as he used one of the forks to lift up Veger. Praxis turned the forklift around and catapulted Veger into Torn. This caused an explosion when they collided, in mid air.

"RAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!" Praxis erupted with roars of laughter as he hunched further over the steering wheel in the hope that it would make it go faster.

"DIIIIIIIIIIIIE FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAK!!!" Praxis screamed as he turned the magnet back on. Jak and his zoomer began to get pulled back towards Praxis. Jak spotted this assault and jumped off the zoomer before it was too late.

"He's gonna eat is!" Daxter screamed, this caused Jak to cry like a little kid being eaten by the boogieman, aka Krew on weekends.

Jak spotted an alleyway in the distance and decided to hide there. He ran into it and stopped to see if he had lost the Baron. He however was not so lucky when he saw the two forks coming into the view from the side. He then saw the front of the forklift, it's indicator flashing, trying to indicate that the Baron knew Jak's secrets. Jak ran out the other end of the alley and screamed like a little girl.

"You can't hide from me party ruiner!!" Praxis hissed at Jak and Daxter. "I know where you buy your groceries!!"

"NO!!" Jak screamed like a little girl again.

"YES!!" Praxis screamed back. The resulted in Jak screaming and crying as he threw an innocent citizen at the Baron.

Praxis got the citizen on one of the forks and flung him behind his precious forklift, soon to be his precious wife.

"You can't do this to me!! I'm Jak!" Jak screamed.

"NO! I'M JAK, JAK!! NOT YOU, JAK!!!" Praxis roared.

Jak ran past the PowerStation where Vin was exiting with caution.

"Okay Vin…today's the big day…today you are gonna go out and be a normal person! Today you are invincible!! And not even the Baron riding a forklift in gonna stop you!!!!" Vin called out with pride as he took a step out of the PowerStation doorway. The Baron went past on his forklift; he was screaming insults at Jak.

"Or not…" Vin sighed nervously as he backed into the PowerStation and waited for the door to close.

"Ooo, I love this song so much!" Praxis cheered as he repeated his Spice Girl's track.

"YO, I'll ya what I want, what I really, really want!!" Praxis sang, he was disturbingly out of time from the real song.

"This can't be happening to me!" Jak cried as the forklift picked up more speed. Jak ran into the Port and ran along towards the Palace.

"DIE JAK!" Praxis screamed, his eye focused on Jak. For some strange reason Praxis indicated to his right and pulled into a McDonalds drive through, Praxis was still focused straight ahead of him and at Jak.

"Okay…the only explanation for that is that the Baron's instinct got the better if him…" Daxter spat as Jak turned around and looked at Praxis who was talking to a drive through sever. Neither Praxis nor the teen girls words were audible but Praxis kept pointing to a menu through the window and counting out his money. Praxis soon gave the girl the money then continued along to the next window.

The girl in the other window gave Praxis a large bag filled with burgers and chips and it wasn't long before he had indicated out of McDonalds. Praxis reached into the bag with one hand, the other hand controlling the steering wheel. He pulled out a big Mac and began to pull the wrapper off it. He forced half the burger into his mouth and began to chew it to death.

Jak raised an eyebrow at the approaching Baron. Jak turned and started to run, Praxis was getting dangerously close.

Praxis shoved the other half of the burger into his mouth and swallowed it whole. He then pulled out his large milkshake and gulped it all down his throat in one go. He then let out the loudest, most tedious, yet entertaining to Damas, repulsive, milkshake-burger burp in the history of ever. Jak clapped at the burp. Praxis soon began on his large fries.

"BOOOOO! (Hiss) YUCK!! BOOO!!" Praxis would hiss and scream if he found a brown/old/cold/uncooked/small chip. He would chew the chip up and spit it at old ladies and fat people, who were minding their own business.

Praxis had soon devoured everything in the bag. He was getting dangerously close to Jak.

"BOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" Praxis screamed as he threw the bag filled with at least 10 big Mac wrappers, 2 chip holders and one drinking cup with a pink straw. The bag hit Daxter, and he got knocked off Jak's shoulder.

Daxter screamed for help but Jak couldn't give a damn about anyone else right now. He just kept running while the forklift's tires narrowly missed Daxter.

Daxter screamed before running after Jak and Praxis.

"I'm gonna eat your soul!" Praxis screamed threateningly at Jak.

"Aaaaaaagggghh!!!" Jak screamed.

It was almost the end…the forklift was gaining on Jak, in fact it was less than a meter from him…

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**Bijoux: So how was that…?**

**Corad: Dude, you can't just end it there…**

**Bijoux: Errarrgh…fine…**

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(Voice over dude): Previously on Baron Forklift….

"I'm gonna eat your soul!" Praxis screamed threateningly at Jak.

"Aaaaaaagggghh!!!" Jak screamed.

Just then…

"Um, I'm sorry sir, but we Chinese restaurant…we no sell big Mac here…especially not 4 fused together…and we don't have drive through…this is only window used to gain fresh air…" Jak turned around to see Praxis, who had come to a halt at a Chinese restaurant window.

"But I'm hungry…" Praxis moaned as he slumped over the steering wheel and began to sulk.

The Chinese man got scared and decided to lock the doors and windows, before Praxis could find the vulnerable entrances.

"Pig…" Praxis muttered as he began to go after Jak again.

Jak began to run away in return.

"NOW HEAR MY WRATHFUL THEME SONG!!!!" Praxis roared as he turned the volume of his CD player up full boar.

"YO, I'LL TELL YA WHAT I WANT! WHAT I REALLY, REALLY WANT!! SO, THEN TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT! WHAT YOU REALLY WANT!! I WANNA! I WANNA! I WANNA! I WANNA!I WANNA! I WANNA REALLY, REALLY, REALLY, WANNA ZIGZIG HA! IF YA WANN BE MY LOVER! YA GOTTA GET WITH MY FRIENDS! MAKE IT LAST FOREVER! FRIENDSHIP NEVER ENDS!!"

Jak screamed as loud as he possibly could, at the sound of the Spice Girls, full boar style; they were already bad as it was, but now they were just suicidal…

Jak turned around to see how far away Praxis was. He became shocked when he realized that Praxis was wearing a black, Afro, wig. He was singing along to the song in a girly tone.

"Look Jak! I'm Scary Spice!" Praxis cheerfully declared as he pointed to the wig. Jak screamed again as he ran into the grassy areas near the bazaar.

"Where the hell did you get that?!" Jak screamed behind him to Praxis.

"Wig stand!" Praxis called back as he signaled behind his back with his thumb. Jak spotted a completely destroyed wig stand in the distance. Imitation hair was everywhere. Jak knew soon that would be him…imitation hair sprawled halfway across the pavement…so sad…so sad…

Jak's face was filled with sweat.

"You die now!" Praxis screamed as he came so close to Jak that the forks were prodding him in the back.

"I wish superman was here!" Jak cried. Jak tilted his head to his left and spotted Superman's cape, half ripped to shreds, as it dangled off a fork. Jak screamed. Praxis laughed. Daxter burped.

Jak hopped on his hover board and fled for his life. It wasn't long before he had lost any trail of the Baron. Jak ended up in the Canal area near the stadium.

Jak began to calm down at the thought of Praxis not knowing where he was. This moment however ended when Praxis appeared out of nowhere. The Spice Girls still playing loud as ever.

"You cannot beat me!!" Praxis growled as he turned his magnet on. The hover board got attracted to the forklift, along with a couple of vehicles and guards.

Jak landed with thud on the ground. He got up as fast as he could and began to run for dear life again. He spotted a ramp leading into the water and told himself to avoid it. Jak ran along the path next to water.

"I kill you Jaaaaaaaaak!!" The baron roared as he went down the ramp partly laughing like a mad scientist. The minute the forklift was under water the Spice Girls slowed down and soon stopped in a tone of slow motion.

"Yo, I'll…tell…what…I…want…what…I…reeaaaargh…" The CD stopped. All the guards and zoomers floated to the surface of the water, along with the black wig. But there was no Praxis…and it had been decided…Praxis was officially…dead…

(1 day later)

"Baron Praxis was a good Baron, he…" Veger was the priest of the funeral of Praxis.

"No he wasn't! He destroyed half the city!!" A citizen called at Veger.

"Oh…okay then…" Veger sighed as he closed the book he was reading from and threw it over his back.

The coffin filled with nothing approached the front of the funeral sight; it was carried by a few guards. The guards put the lid of the coffin on top of the forklift, which was next to Veger. They put the bottom half of the coffin underneath the forklift, between its wheels. The Spice Girls were playing in the background, on the count of Praxis had requested that his funeral be like this…

"Oh, sorry I'm late…I was at the Chinese restaurant…so whose funeral is this…?" Praxis had appeared out of nowhere, he was wearing a black dress, black high heels and a black hat with a lacy thing covering some of his face.

"Yours…" Veger couldn't believe his eyes.

"You're alive…?" Erol cried, the baron suspected it was from joy…only on opposite day Praxis…

"Err…yeah…" Praxis sighed, "Why wouldn't I be…?"

"Well…we've been searching the city for you all day…" Veger sighed.

"Oh…I was at the Chinese restaurant…" Praxis casually said.

"For 1 and a half days…?" Erol raised an eyebrow at his Baron.

"Yeah…they were holding and all you can eat sale…" Praxis said in a snobby tone.

"No we weren't…you threatened us with gun if we closed…or gave you bill…" The owner of the Chinese restaurant had appeared.

"Oh…Hey! You found my forky!! And my CD!" Praxis cheered as he got his CD from the nearby funeral CD player and hopped into his partly rusted forklift. He shoved the CD into the CD player in his Forklift and turned towards Jak, who was wearing a black tuxedo.

"You!" Praxis hissed at Jak, as he put his "Scary Spice" wig on and revved the engine. Jak screamed before running for his life…

And so, Praxis kept "Dying"…it happened every two days from then on…and sooner or later Veger stopped holding funerals, as the guests became scarce…but one day Praxis did die and they didn't hold a funeral (just like the boy who cried wolf)…but that's a different story…in fact it's part of Jak2…yes…it is why they didn't hold a funeral when Kor killed him…it sure is…

**END…? **

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**Bijoux: Okay, this was pretty long...neh...heheh...I just watched some show where two guys tried to prove that if you drop a cigarrete down a dunny then it blows up...heheheheehehhe...yeah...please review...**


	12. Rampaging Idiots

**Anonymous Idiot: Okay, we have a task for you guys, when you review we want you to have a guess who wrote this if you want to. Hopefully by now you'll know the difference between our writing styles...if there is a difference...or you people could just think we both write the same oldworthless stupidity...neh...anyway, I don't own"Jak and Daxter"... **

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Palace Stories- May have been exaggerated…**

**Rampaging Idiots…**

It was a happy day in the underground. The bunk beds were neatly made. The desk of Torn was free of all the useless maps and papers. The floor had been swept. And lastly, the boxes had been stacked neatly along the walls once they had been sorted through. Yes, it was beautiful…

And all Torn could think about, as he examined the beauty of his "house", was that nothing, could ruin this day of happy, cleanliness.

"PAAAAAAAAAAAAARTY!!!!!!!" Praxis thundered as he threw the underground door off its frame and stampeded down the stairs like an elephant on drugs.

"What the hell are you doing here you moron?!" Torn spat as he took a hold of the broom, which was leaning against a wall behind him.

"PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTY!!! Ing…" Praxis roared as he jumped about, arms high in the air.

"Oh no you're not! It's bad enough having Jak and his knitting group in here! Let alone you trying to have a party!" Torn spat as he advanced on Praxis, broom getting prepared as a weapon of "_mass destruction_".

"Buuut Torn…" Praxis moaned with disapproval, as he slumped his shoulders.

"No buts tubby! NOW GET THE HELL OUT!!" Torn hissed as he pointed the broom at the door way. Praxis gave Torn the puppy dog pout (looks sad and sorry for self), before turning around and sulking off, pretending to cry.

Torn then went back to his daily doings of Torn.

"PIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIZZAAAAAAAAAA!!" Jak roared as he stampeded down the stairs just like Praxis had done moments beforehand. Jak had a pizza box in his hands, Daxter on his shoulder eyeing the box, labeled extra cheese flavored.

"Oh no you pizza eater 3000! You ain't bringing that thing anywhere closer to that ceiling fan!" Torn roared at Jak, as he pointed accusingly at a ceiling fan. The fan was rotating on high speed. Jak looked at Torn with a puzzled gaze. What harm could pizza do to a ceiling fan.

"But Torn…what the heck is pizza gonna do to your damn ceiling fan?!" Daxter yelled as he grabbed the box from Jak and headed towards the round desk in the center of the room.

"Get your squirrelly ass away from here with that damn pizza!!" Torn screamed as he blocked the walk way to the desk. Daxter let out an irritated sigh before rolling his eyes and throwing the pizza behind his back. Jak caught the pizza and marveled at his workings.

"Don't you see the dangers?! If you tripped on something and that pizza flew out of your grasp…" Torn was clutching his head in fear and acting a lot like Vin's double.

Jak and Daxter gave it other a confused glance, but Torn wasn't finished there…

"It would go hurdling at the ceiling! The pizza would fly out the damn box, and it would go colliding with the fan! Then it would rotate for 5 hell forsaken seconds, before spattering all over the place! It would be hell!!" Torn was screaming and panting, half in tears for some strange reason. Torn barged past Daxter and snatched the pizza away from Jak and wandered over to the main desk.

"O…Kay…" Jak nervously muttered as he and Daxter backed out the door slowly, never letting Torn leave the eye gazes.

"What the hell was that?!" Daxter boomed from outside, Jak was still looked through the door and at Torn. Torn held the pizza above a bin and began to shoot the living daylights out of it.

Jak screamed like a little girl, catching Daxter's attention. Daxter spotted Torn's doing and screamed as well.

"Okay…now it's personal…sure when he shot at my knitting group…but this…this is just disgusting…" Jak hissed as he glared at Torn, who had begun to dust off his hands, and walk away from the scene of the crime.

Jak growled before stomping off towards the Port. Daxter soon caught up with Jak and it wasn't long before he was seated back on Jak's shoulder.

(Some time later…)

"OKAY PEOPLE! EMERGENCY MEETING!!" Jak screamed as he stomped into the Naughty Ottsel.

"What is Jak…?" Ashelin sighed as she approached Jak and Daxter.

"It's Torn…" Jak hissed as he glared straight ahead of him.

"HA! What? Did he ruin your party too…?" Praxis boomed from his seat at the counter. He had a beer in one hand and Erol's hand in the other.

"Um…sir…do I have to be here…? It smells funny…" Erol was whimpering from his stool next to Praxis.

Praxis began to break out in tears. Erol rolled his eyes before taking back his job of comforting Praxis from his party loss.

"No…no it's much worse than a party…" Jak mumbled as he walked towards Praxis. Praxis lifted his tear stained face and looked at Jak with a brow raised.

"What the hell is worse than a party ruiner?!!" Praxis spat as he got to his feet aggressively, Erol's hand was getting crushed inside Praxis's as he dangled a couple of feet from the floor.

"Torn…destroyed my Pizza!" Jak hissed as he glared at Praxis. Everyone in the room screamed, gasped or cried.

"HE MUST BE STOPPED!" Samos called as he jumped up from his seat; he slammed his walking stick into the floor with disapproval.

"OH MY GOD!! There is no god…" Praxis sat back down and started to whimper as he buried his face into Erol's chest and cried. Erol gave a disgusted glare towards Praxis.

"Let's get him!!" Seem chanted from behind the counter, probably trying to get more high than PAYING customers.

"HERE! HERE!!" Samos agreed as he again hit the end of his stick against the floor, his fist clenched.

And so the following idiots disappeared out the naughty ottsel and into the distance to find weapons of "Mass Destruction": Kor, Kleiver, Damas, Seem, Jak, Daxter, Samos, Keira, Ashelin, Veger, Sig, Erol, Praxis, Vin, Pecker, Onin and Brutter. Yes, they all headed into the distance like the idiots they are.

(Sometime later)

"DIE UNDERGROUND!!" Praxis called from his tank, his body couldn't manage to fit into the tank so his chest and head were visible out of the top hole thingy.

Vin was driving his lift thingy (ya know that thing and it levitates so he can get to the higher monitors and stuff?), although he'd attached a massive turret to the front of it.

Brutter had attached a helicopter propeller to the top of his stall, and was screaming insults at innocent bystanders as he flew around the slums.

Onin had attached two round tables together (at the legs) and was rolling about town with them on their sides. She was sitting where the legs of the tables joined together. Pecker appeared to be attached to the creation and was pulling the contraption that only an old lady could make their best friend.

Samos was driving a lawn mower, he was screaming out extremely offensive words at people, not to mention hitting them over their heads with his walking stick.

Jak was riding a zoomer, while Daxter was shooting stuff with the morph gun, for no apparent reason.

Ashelin had found two Barbie cars and had put her feet in them, for the use of rollerblades. Speaking of blades, she was wielding a chainsaw about, screaming like Xena herself.

Veger was riding a vacuum cleaner, the chord disappearing through the city and ending somewhere in the palace.

Keira was riding the rift rider at the same time as throwing an imitation bomby knocker (aka a spanner attached to a chain), at people, than pulling it back with the chain and having a round two, soon to be a round 6379.

Seem had high jacked a dark maker (from near first level of Jak3, not near end) and had put jets into the tail thingy. She was using two of the legs to steer the poor soulless, soul.

Kor had found a sleigh and had attached Mar/Young Jak to the front to pull it. Kor was screaming like imitation Xena, due to fact he'd seen Ashelin doing it, and must've decided it was another way to try and be cool. Kor had a whip prepared in case Mar messed up or disobeyed.

Damas and Kleiver were rampaging around the slums in the ram rod, they had Kleiver's Brittany Spears CD on full boar, they were actually trying to sing along to it but they just ended up sounding like a bunch of elephants that had, had beyond too many wines.

Erol was driving a bomby zoomer, probably the one he ran into a wall too quickly last time he raced on the streets with Onin's bed, on tank wheels.

Sig was riding what looked like his peace maker on bicycle wheels, with bicycle handle bars and brakes attached to it.

All these idiots headed straight for the Underground.

Torn was happily plotting ways to keep the place clean when he was interrupted by…

"I'm not a girl…not yet a woman…" The music was coming from somewhere outside and was getting closer by the minute. Torn remembered the time that Praxis was listening to sissy music, whilst rampaging through Haven. Torn hoped with all his might that this wasn't an instant reply of that…

"THIS IS FOR THE PIZZA TORN!!!!!!" Torn heard Jak screams coming from outside.

"Oh god no…" Torn looked horrified as Praxis, Damas and Kleiver smashed the walls of the underground down. This assault was closely followed by the other morons rampaging into the falling apart Underground. The walls had soon begun to cave in and the ceiling was gradually falling down.

Torn screamed before running out the Underground, and through a large hole (located in the security walls) that Praxis and co. had made with their super vehicles.

It wasn't long before everyone had passed through the underground and beaten half of it to a pile of rubble. Samos drove past on his lawn mower. He shook his fist threateningly at the pile of rubble and destruction, once known as the Underground.

"Let the Earth's wrathful soil kill and burn you to hell!!" Samos screamed as he disappeared into the wasteland after the others.

"THIS IS FOR BEING A FUN EATER!!" Jak screamed as he took out his hover board and used it to catapult Daxter at Torn's head.

Daxter collided with Torn's already sore head. Torn fell to the ground and landed on some underground rubble.

"Who else wants to volunteer to be catapulted at Torn?!" Jak called out to the others. Samos soon appeared flying through the air towards Torn's head. Samos was laughing like a lunatic as he flew into Torn.

Veger was a bit slower than the others and appeared on his vacuum cleaner soon after. The cord got too strained so it pulled half the palace kitchen wall out and was dangling behind Veger who was using the vac as it was some for of skateboard.

"DIE PIZZA KILLER!!" Veger hissed as he swung the vac's chord above his head. He threw the chord out towards Torn, the wall hit Torn's head.

"AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!" Veger laughed as he disappeared into the distance with the others. The others were high fiving each other and celebrating in the distance. A shampane bottle's cork even flew high into the air as they drove along cheering.

(2 days later)

Torn had been wondering the streets for some time now…due to the fact that a bunch of idiots had rampaged through the hideout…leaving nothing but rubble. But now Torn had bigger things to worry about…for the past two and a half days the same idiots had been following him around town, throwing objects and insults at him.

Torn stopped and turned around as he growled. Everyone else stopped in their places and glared at Torn. Torn rolled his eyes before turning around and continuing along the path to nowhere.

Torn was really getting sick of this. He sighed with an angry manner before turning around to face the idiots again.

"Hey look everyone! Free carpet samples!!" Torn called out as he pointed to a turn off next to him. Down the turn off there was a corner. A bit before the corner a sign hung from the wall, it read "Hell" and had an arrow pointing around the corner.

"Oooooo!!" The crowd said as they disappeared on their vehicles, around the corner.

Torn sighed with relief before going to find a place to stay while he rebuilt the underground.

And so, they were never seen again…(some random guy: But they like…appeared 5 minutes later…harassing Torn again…)…oh…was their skin and clothes charcoaled black…? (Guy: Yes……) Then my work is done…

END…?

**Extra bit… **

"Hey! You stay away from my one pride and joy!" Damas boomed at Kor, who still had Mar attached to the sleigh.

"It's okay baby, mummy is here now…" Damas sighed as he bent down and picked up a cheese burger off the floor. Damas then walk off talking to his "one pride and Joy"…

………………………………………END……………………………thank god for that……

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**Anonymous Idiot: Please review, and don't forget to try and geuss which one of us wrote this...if you want to...heh...My computer teacher is a wierdo...he can't spell "Anyone" or "Listening", and when we were doing Powerpoints about ourselves, he came up with the catergory, "3 favorite teachers in the school..." And he said that if he wasn't number 1 on the list, then you automatically fail...and I'm like...o...kay...**


	13. Mount Splashmore

**Corad: Hey ya pples! Thanks for those nice reviews by everyone! And for those of you who guessed the author, you were all right! It was Bijoux! So, you guys do know the difference between our writing, or was it the 'Elephant on drugs' that gave it away? Oh well, either way, Congrats!!!**

**Now, Bijoux is saying that she wants some credit for the first scene of this chapter. Well, the first four paragraphs anyway. I hope this one is ok. It's not as funny as the previous one, but Bijoux has written another one, which she'll post up soon. **

**I don't own Jak and Daxter, Mount Splashmore (from an ep of the simpsons)or some quotes off the Simpsons. **

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Palace Stories – may have been exaggerated**

**Mount Splash-more**

The sun was just rising over Haven city when Erol's bedroom door was suddenly flung open, and a loud triumphant noise echoed around. "EROL!!!!" the voice shouted, before leaping onto the bed and waking the commander up. Erol opened his eyes quickly, and glared around, looking dazed.

"What? What do you want sir?" Erol snapped sleepily to the Baron who was tugging at the bed sheets attempting to pull them off. He stopped and looked at Erol, his face beaming in joy. "Erol, will you take me to Mt Splash-more?" Praxis asked in a little kid tone trying to get something off their parents.

Erol growled and turned over in his bed, his back facing the Baron. "Sir, it's five in the morning. Can't you take yourself?" he asked, closing his eyes. Praxis started pouting and got off the bed. "No, just take me Erol. Take me now!" he whined, crossing his arms as he sulked. He was met however, by soft snoring.

"Oh knock it off Commander! No one falls asleep that quick…(Snores)" the Baron was saying before he fell asleep, standing up. So, about two hours had passed before Erol woke up again, and rolled over, to see Praxis was still in his room, fast asleep standing up. He raised an eyebrow, and got out of bed. Praxis just kept sleeping while Erol went for a shower, got dressed, did his hair, ate breakfast, watched an hour of telly and read the newspaper in the dining room.

He figured that Praxis should have awoken after he'd finished reading, and headed back up to his room, to see the Baron occupying his bed. "Sir, what are you still doing in here?" Erol spat, stopping short of the Baron. Praxis sat up, with pleading eyes. "Will you take me to Mt Splash-more yet?"

Erol rolled his eyes and walked out his room. He had duty down in the slums today, and thought it'd be best to start it five hours early. So, off he went, heading to the front door, when loud thudding and complaining began behind him. "Oh come on Erol. Take me to Mount Splash-more. It can be my birthday present," Praxis exclaimed at Erol's receding back.

"Praxis sir, I gave you a birthday present two weeks ago. It was that easy bake oven you wanted that you somehow burnt into a melted puddle of plastic. It was designed for kids!" Erol shouted back, opening up the front door and stepping out onto the pavement. Praxis followed him outside in a hurry. "But Erol, you like Mt Splash-more. Remember?" the Baron pressed on, running in circles around the commander as he walked to the Slums.

Praxis tried a variety of annoying tactics to get Erol to change his mind. One was forcefully picking him up and walking to the bus stop labeled 'mount splash-more express', and another one was repeating the same line over and over again. Erol just tired to ignore him as he patrolled the dirtiest part of the city, but it was hard because everywhere he turned, he just saw Praxis' big gut in his face.

"Oh, Erol why won't ya take me! Please!" Praxis groaned a few minutes later, grabbing hold of Erol's ankle and was getting dragged along when the commander attempted to walk. "Sir, you are old enough to go there on your own. Plus, it's just over there!" he spat, pointing to a big sign saying Mount Splash-more, and behind the high fence surrounding it was a large artificial mountain used as a water slide.

Praxis sulked again, and stood up, wiping away imaginary tears. "Ok, you've left me absolutely no choice, Commander," the Baron began loudly, standing up tall and adjusting his belt like people do before they beat the crap outta others. Erol darted his eyes to the Baron, and to his hand on his belt moving it straight. He knew what the Baron was concocting in his feeble brain, and began to cower before anything had actually happened.

"I hate to do this to my one pride and Joy (a/n Wonder where Ashelin fits in then) but…. Will you take me to mount splash-more? Will you take me to mount splash-more? Will you take me to mount splash-more?" And so, it began. The baron kept repeating the same line over again, and in a real quick manner, that Erol felt like he was going to crack.

"Will you take me to mount splash-more?" the Baron roared, which echoed around the slums and grabbed the attention of every person in the area. "No," Erol replied unenthusiastically, walking away and heading to the underground. Praxis followed him, prancing around in a circle as he walked.

"Will you take me to Mt Slash-more?"

"No."

"Will you take me to Mt Slash-more?"

"No."

"Will you take me to Mt Slash-more?"

"No."

This argument just kept going, until Erol reached the underground to find it was locked. Knowing Torn, he'd locked it in advance. "Oh come oonnn!!! Just do it man! Get with the time!" Praxis said dramatically, sound like a hippy from the sixties. Erol turned around to see him wearing a daisy chain on his head, and a long, blonde wig, reaching past his shoulders.

"What are you wearing?" Erol asked, eying him in shock. Praxis shrugged, and began his little thing again.

"Will you take me to Mt Slash-more?"

"No."

"Will you take me to Mt Slash-more?"

"No! For the last god damn time, NO!" Erol shouted, and watched as the daisy chain burst into flames and turned to ash in Praxis' blonde wig. "Now, why don't you go ask Ashelin?" Erol continued, heading away from the underground now. Praxis ran up to him, and stopped him with a firm hand on his back.

"Great idea! Oh Ashelin!" the Baron bellowed, and Erol watched in horror as Ashelin just appeared in a puff of smoke beside him. "Listen to this Ash. Erol tight ass won't take us to Mount Splash-more," Praxis explained, glaring in what should have been an angry way at Erol. Ashelin nodded her head in agreement, and then rounded on Erol.

"Oh yeah! Come on father, we'll go together then!" Ashelin spat, her whole weight on one leg and her arms crossed. Erol thought that this was the start of peace and quiet, but no. He was wrong…. like always….

"Will you take us to Mount Splash-more? Will you take us to Mount Splash-more? Will you take us to Mount Splash-more?"

Erol's head spun at the sudden teamwork displayed by the Baron and his daughter, and decided to retreat. He ran for cover, but was pursued by the duo, screaming, crying, throwing stuff, spitting, hissing, booing, complaining…other things that people do when they don't get what they want.

"You get back here, commander sponge!" the Baron spat aggressively, picking up a nearby citizen and throwing them at him. Erol landed with a thud, and waited for the Baron to proceed towards him. "Oh yeah, you think you're like, da best or something!" Ashelin shouted, pointing at Erol when she reached him. Erol looked up, to see Ashelin dressed in black leather, wearing spiked wristbands, black lipstick and mascara, big black boots, chains…he'd guessed that somewhere along the lines of appearing out of thin air and pursuing him, she'd evolved into a punk or Goth.

"Yeah, like dude, we just wanna have some fun, but you fun ruiners have to break the fun!" Praxis spat, sounding like a hippy again and now wearing a tie-dyed poncho. Erol was picked up forcefully by his neck collar, and dragged all the way to the Mount Splash-more gate. He stood fidgeting nervously as they waited to be let in to the water slide theme park.

Once they had been let through the gates, Erol watched as both Hippy Praxis and Punk Ashelin disappeared in separate directions into the crowd of people. He stood, being the loner that he was, wandering whether or not he should leave to go home. He thought that seeing the Baron just left him alone, he no longer needed him. So, the commander picked his way carefully out of the theme park, and headed back to the palace, where he collapsed on the couch.

He flipped on the TV, and saw a news bulletin interrupting a show. It had a picture of someone's behind stuck in a water slide pipe. He turned the volume up, and the news reader said that some fat man had attempted to go down a kiddy ride and got stuck. Erol had a feeling that this 'fat' man was Praxis, and hoped that he wasn't that enraged about it when he got home.

Speaking of which, the front door opened and Praxis wandered in, the kiddy water slide pipe still around his middle. "Praxis sir?" Erol asked, and watched as Praxis disappeared into the direction of the kitchen. From that day on, Praxis has never asked Erol to go to Mount Splash-more again…

He just picked him up and dragged him there like last time, against his will….

End?

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**Corad: Ok, I know this is no where near as funny as the others that little miss Bjoux wrote, but I tried. Now, if you wanna leave a review, it'll make us both happy. Just remember, if ppl review, the next chapter will be up soon (aka Tomorrow). Tell ya now, it's hilarious. Full of so much stupidity....still laughing at it even though I read it 6 hours ago. See ya guys!**


	14. DigiBobMon

**Bijoux: Thanks for the reviews peoples...um...yeah...This story contains a variety of different shows and stuff...hopefully you won't need to know much about the shows to understand this, on the count of I know nothing about Transformers, Sonic the Hedgehog or Digimon...and I'm thinking I did stuff almost right for those shows...anyway...I don't own Jak and Daxter series, SpongeBob Squarepants, Digimon, Pokemon, Transformers, Sonic the Hedgehog, Superman, Yugioh ora qoute from Lilo and Stich...err...I think that's all of them...if not then I don't own your "fantasy show" either... Ummm...heh...enjoy... **

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**Palace Stories- Has definitely been exaggerated… **

**Digi-Bob-Mon **

"You can't tell me what to do! I'm your father young man!" Praxis' roars were heard from down the hall in his throne room. The decision of whether Praxis had in fact been raiding the alcohol stash recently, was still undecided, but it was a verdict that only the council could make.

"So…have you decided yet…?" Erol asked as he approached Veger, who lay slumped on the meeting table of the council (wherever the hell that is).

"Well…I asked the others…" Veger's moans were heard from his face splattered into the wooden table, position.

"And…?" Erol sighed as he examined the empty, except for him and Vegerish Veger, room.

"Well…as you can see…they kind of…………had better things to do…" Erol looked down at the seating area of the vice council dude. He saw a piece of paper with the words, "Gone Drinkin" In neat handwriting that only an intelligent person could read…sheesh…that cancels Kleiver out…hehehe…yeah…

"So…they went to the pub…?" Erol sighed as he picked up the small piece of paper and examined the last remnants of the council, until 10am tomorrow morning when they all were scheduled to wake up with hangovers and they'd be wishing that they knew where the hell they went last night.

"Um…actually…it's a lot worse…actually…they…ah…they went to the beer factory…" Veger nervously chuckled as he scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh…" Erol said as Veger stood up and headed for the exit door. Erol followed and it wasn't long before they had both "Mysteriously" appeared in Praxis' throne room.

"So…so ah you ah…doin anything tonight…?" Praxis chuckled towards the chandelier.

"Um…sir…have you been…um…err…chucking a 'the rest of the council' routine…?" Veger asked as he slowly approached the throne.

"What…? You mean drinking…?" Praxis began to laugh at the idea, "Oh golly no…what the heck do you think I am…? You two know I can't even stand the smell of a beer…!" Praxis' roars of laughter made the Palace vibrate.

Erol looked at Veger as a beer can opened in the background.

"Oh yeah…that's good…" Praxis sighed in a dreaming manner, as he sniffed the inside of the recently opened beer can.

"Okay…" Erol and Veger said in unison, as they eyed the so-called superior ruler of their home city.

"So, how can I help you two…?" Praxis asked as he put the beer down on the floor and crossed his arms.

"Well…um…maybe…if you could you know…do a better job of ruling the city…?" Erol nervously asked, as he eyed about the room guiltily. Veger began to nod his head as he gripped his gun in advance, these days you couldn't risk (beeping) the baron off…even if you were his preschool crush you wouldn't get away with it…(Shows Torn sitting in the hospital, he's covered head to toe in bandages).

"Oh…oh I get it…you two think I'm too dumb to rule pizza haven city hut…? Well then fine! You have your pancakes and cream! I'm outta here!" Praxis screamed as he leapt to his feet and stormed away to his room, possibly to pack his beloved Barbie based belongings.

"What was he talking about…?" Erol looked at Veger with confusion. Veger shook his head with a puzzled look on his face.

(Two days later)

"Hey…um…has anyone seen my father…?" Ashelin asked as she entered the lounge room of the palace.

Erol and Veger were watching the news at the same time as reading the NEWSPAPER!

"Well…I thought I saw him in a bin down the street…but that was just a mattress that no one wanted…" Veger sighed as he put his newspaper down on the coffee table in front of him.

"Ha…what's the difference between that and Praxis…?" Erol laughed at the mere thought of Praxis' parents being a gorilla and a mattress that no one wanted.

"But it is strange that he's disappeared…I mean…I haven't seen my council since two days ago…" Veger looked nervously at his lap, probably hoping that more aliens hadn't entered haven city…Torn was bad enough by himself…

"And in recent news…" A reporter lady on the TV caught the room's attention; even the sofa was listening to the reports now.

"The "_Grand_" city council has been spotted riding washing baskets attached to hoverbaords, around the area of the city which lies dangerously close to the beer factory…" The reporter went on.

"We're going to hell!" A member of the council happily cheered on the TV.

"We're already there dumb (beep)!" Another one called out.

Veger almost died at the mere sight of _his_ council acting like idiots on public TV.

"Ok…" Erol and Ashelin looked at the TV screen, fear in their eyes at the mere thought of these idiots being the people who ran a lot of the things that happened in Haven city.

"Well…anyway…maybe we should go find the Baron…" Erol said as he slowly averted his eyes from the TV screen. He stood up and walked over to the door. Ashelin followed, but stopped halfway there and looked at Veger, who was staring at the TV with disgrace.

"That's _my_ council…?" Veger whimpered at the sight of the now half naked council members running around screaming and throwing things, as they half giggled like small children, on drugs.

"Um…Veger…?" Ashelin wandered over to the sofa and turned off the TV. Veger was now in tears and was just about ready to die of embarrassment.

"That…was _my_ council…?" Veger choked through his childish sobs.

"Um…well…yes…at least that wasn't as bad as last Christmas…" Ashelin murmured as she pulled Veger too his feet. Both Ashelin and Veger shuddered at the memory of last Christmas.

"Now come on…we have to go find my father…before he does something stupid…like attaching a tank wheel to the refrigerator and riding the around the wasteland…again…" Ashelin sighed as she pulled Veger out the door. Veger appeared to be in some form of trance.

(Sometime later)

"Okay…my best guess is that Praxis has gone to the wasteland to hang around aimlessly, with Damas…" Erol sighed from behind the wheel of a four-seater zoomer.

"What gives you that idea…?" Ashelin asked from the front passenger seat, it had in fact taken a long argument to make Veger sit in the back seat and let Ashelin sit in the front. It _had_ in fact resulted in Veger kicking, screaming, punching, (beep) slapping, eating cheeseburger after cheeseburger, throwing cats and small children, picking his nose, doing the laundry, washing the dishes, swabbing the deck, watching playschool, dying, spitting at old people, laughing, drinking, burping, making out with Seem, marrying Jak, taking the fridge to Mexico, watching Treasure Planet 16 times in a row, listening to the toaster cook toast and generally disrupt the whole life living genre...

"Oh…you don't want to know…" Erol nervously muttered remembering a flash back. (Continuing on from Ashelin's question).

(Flash)

"So ah…what happened to Mrs. Praxis…?" Jak had appeared aimlessly at the Palace, one former happy Sunday, and was talking to Praxis, who was sitting at his throne.

(Shows Damas sitting at his throne in Spargus)

(Meanwhile in Spargus…)

"So ah…what happened to Mrs. Damas…?" Sig had appeared aimlessly at the throne room of Damas, one former happy Sunday, and was talking to Damas, who was sitting at his throne.

(Shows Praxis sitting at his throne in Haven)

(End Flash)

Erol shuddered at the memory…even though he wasn't even there when it had happened…and neither Damas nor Praxis had given an answer out anyway…so technically…

It wasn't long before Erol, Ashelin, Veger and Superman had appeared, as if by magic, at Spargus city.

Bijoux: Hey…wait a minute…you weren't damn invited! Get the hell out of here! (Kicks Superman's butt out the city. Superman slumps off without any friends)…

"There you are sir…" Erol sighed with "relief" as he approached Praxis in that area where Kleiver keeps all of his dune buggies.

"Oh…it's……………………you guys……………………" Praxis stuck his nose up in the air with disgust.

"Um…well…you've been missing for almost 3 days now…and you're meant to be ruling the city…so…um…yeah…" Erol looked around with part guilt in his eyes. He knew that Praxis would somehow find a way to blame Erol for his "unfortunate" "disappearance"...

"Oh…well…now look who's stupid…Sorry Erol! And friends! But I have new friends now!" Praxis hissed, as Damas and Kleiver strode up to Praxis and stood a bit behind him.

"Yeeeeaaah!" Damas and Kleiver said in stuck up, girly tones, as they put their hands on their hips and leaned forward a bit. (If anyone is wondering, they sound like those 3 or 4 girls from "Lilo and Stitch", ya know how one of them says something and then the others agree…and yeah…)…

"But father…" Ashelin moaned with disapproval as she rolled her eyes and looked sorrowfully at the ground.

"No buts Ashfan! That goes for you too Vemutt and Commander tight ass!" Praxis roared, as he turned around and headed for the doors into Spargus.

"YEEEEAAAH!" Kleiver, Sig (Don't ask where the hell Sig came from…neh…let's just say he was in the can (dunny/toilet/men's room) up until now…) and Damas repeated before turning around and walking away, after Praxis.

"Okay…" Erol sighed as he rolled his eyes at the sight of Praxis' disappearing behind.

Veger, Erol and Ashelin want back to Palace soon later and tried to plot a way to get Praxis back. They discussed about maybe using reverse physiology, but that idea died when Veger recalled them of when Praxis took it the wrong way and thought that they were letting him do whatever he wanted. They really didn't want him to highjack another forklift…again…

It was soon decided that they were going to trap Praxis into a large crate or net, then drag him home, kicking, screaming, laughing, playing cards, watching TV, going through the McDonalds drive through, going to Disney Land, beer drinkingly back to the palace.

And so, they set off to find Praxis. They searched everywhere, even under the mat of Damas' bedroom, but they found no Praxis. So eventually they went to the closest theme park to see if he'd gone there.

(At the closest theme park to Spargus)

"WHOOOOOOOOOH!" Praxis cheered from his red bumper car, he'd attached a large turret gun to the front of his car and was aiming it at the other drivers, mainly Vin. Vin screamed as he put the accelerator down hard and tried his best to dodge the gun's bullets.

Kleiver was riding the massive Ferris wheel, next to the bumper cars. It was a funny sight to see Kleiver squashed up in the small carriage, his fat overflowing the top of it, people below screamed at the mere sight of Kleiver's underwear/nappy (?)…

Sig's booming screams could be heard from inside the rocket simulator, which was located on the other side of the bumper cars.

Damas was sitting in the nearby rollercoaster, next to the simulator. He was seated in the middle of the rollercoaster, screaming his head off at the slightest turn of the carriage.

"Huh…my spidy sense is tingling!" Praxis hissed as he examined the area around him. He turned his eyes into slits at the sight of Erol, Ashelin and Veger approaching.

"QUICK!" Praxis' roars where heard by most of the theme park, mainly revolving around Sig, Damas and Kleiver.

"TRANSFORMERS! ROBOTS IN DISGUISE!" Praxis roared as he stood up in the bumper car and pulled it up around his waist, forcing his legs out form underneath.

Damas quickly reacted by stopping the rollercoaster and standing up in it, he too forced his legs through the ride. The other passengers were screaming their heads off, even more loudly than when the ride was going.

Kleiver screamed insults at his carriage to hurry up and reach the ground. When it did, he forced his legs through the floor of the carriage and hurried over to Praxis and Damas who were standing on the nearby footpath. The rest of the massive Ferris wheel was still connected to Kleiver's carriage.

Sig stopped the simulator and forced his legs out the floor. He then rushed over to the others.

"Now hurry! I activate, FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUSSSSSIIIIIIOOOOOOOOOOOOON!" Praxis roared as he put down an imaginary Yu-Gi-Oh card into thin air.

The others rushed around like chickens that had lost their heads. They soon all "fused" together to form a big mechanical beast of utter terror once known as rides.

"Oh my god…" Erol, Veger and Ashelin almost fainted at the large bundle of stolen fair rides. They were put together do that the "robot" had a body like…thing…

Praxis and his bumper car had taken up the offer of the head. Sig and the simulator had become the chest. Damas' middle cart was attached to the bottom of Sig's simulator, while 3 carriages were on either side of the simulator, possibly to act as arms. Kleiver and the Ferris wheel had become the way of transportation of the beastly creation. The Ferris wheel was rolling along the ground, Kleiver's carriage was hitting the floor and getting crushed bit by bit, but he really couldn't care right now…now was his moment of truth…………………he was drunk…and had been for the past 3 years…non stop…

"NOT SO FAST FATHER!" Ashelin screamed as she drew an imaginary card out of her imaginary Yugioh deck, "I activate, trap hole!" Ashelin screamed before getting her gun and pegging it at the ground with such force that it blew up half the theme park's ground.

"What! NOOOOO!" Praxis screamed as his new best friend (AKA Arsenal of stolen rides. Shows forklift moping about the Palace garage), went hurdling into the hole.

"QUIK! USE EATHQUAK, KLEIVERMON!" Praxis roared at the Ferris wheel below. Praxis had gone off Yugioh and was now imitating Pokemon.

"KLEEEEEEEEEIVEEEEEEEEEER!" Kleiver roared before burping louder than any known person ever had. The ground began to crumble and it wasn't long before the ground was again even with the hole Ashelin had made.

"NOOOO!" Ashelin screamed.

"Let me handle this!" Veger called out, he was now wearing Ash Ketchum's hat. Veger turned the hat around.

"SEEMACHU! I CHOOSE YOU!" Veger screamed as he threw Seem, who was bundled up into a little ball.

Seem landed a couple of feet away from the rides and growled and hissed.

"Seeeeeem…" Seem hissed at the beastly, yet once entertaining, thingy…

A Pokemon theme song started up in the background. Veger started to sing it with his own lyrics, though he sounded exactly like the same as the guy who does the themes…whoever he is…

"Everybody wants 2 be in my council.  
Everybody wants 2 show their rage.  
Everybody wants 2 kill the Baron.  
Make their way to eat Samos the Sage!

Each time you drive  
Gonna get a lil bit madder  
Each day, you kill  
One more idiot on the ladder

It's a whole new rage we live with  
It's a whole new way to be  
It's a whole new rage  
With a brand new madtitude

But ya still gotta kill em all  
Join the council.  
Pokemon council.

It's a whole new rage we live with (with)  
but ya still gotta kill em all  
Join the council.  
Pokemon council!"

Erol and Ashelin raised an eyebrow at Veger's singing. Neither one of them really understood…they just played along with it and hoped that he'd go away if they didn't complain.

"NOW GO SEEMACHU! SAND ATTACK!" Veger screamed as he pointed at the enemy.

"Seem, Seem, Seem, Seem…" Seem said her name every time she went to kick sand at her foe.

"IT'S WORKING!" Veger cheered as the "robot" backed away.

"RAAARGH!" Praxis roared as he covered his face from the flying sand.

"REEAARGH! SIGGLYPUFF! USE SCREECH!" Praxis screamed as he pointed down at Seem.

Sig began to sing Brittany spears in a high pitched tone.

"OOPS I DID IT AGAIN! I PLAYED WITH YOUR HEART! GOT LOST IN A GAME! OH BABY, BABY!" Sig sang.

"Chu…" Seem winced at the sound before collapsing on the ground.

"NO! SEEMACHU!" Veger cried before running over to Seem and collapsing on her carcass.

"HA! NOW QUICK DEVI-DAMASMON! DIGIBALL!" Praxis screamed at Damas.

"Devi-Damasmon, digiball into…MEGA-DEVI-DAMASMON!" Damas screamed as he adjust his clothes, he took his underwear (if he even wares them) off and put them over his head, he then put his staff thingy into his mouth and growled at the enemy.

"Quickly Erol! He must be stopped!" Ashelin cried as she stared at the overly unenthusiastic Erol. Erol had never really had a thing for shows designed for children…it wasn't his thing…

"But I don't wanna look like an idiot…in public…" Erol groaned as he slumped his shoulders.

"But Erol, we need you!" Ashelin sobbed.

"Eaarrgh…fine…LEO-JAKMON, DIGIBALL!" Erol screamed as he pointed accusingly at Jak, who had been standing around eating popcorn for the past 3 days, in the same spot and everything.

"YES SIR! LEO-JAKMON DIGIBALL INTO! SABER-LEO-JAKMONPOPCORNBOB!" Jak screamed as he put his popcorn bucket over his head, Xena cries were soon erupting from underneath the bucket.

"(Gasp) We can't compare to that much power! REEEEEEETREEEEEAAAT!" Praxis screamed as the "robot" turned around and headed for the main road.

"WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!" Jak screamed as he pranced about slapping his own behind for some reason.

"YOU DID IT EROL THE HEDGEHOG! YOU SAVED MAN KIND FROM THE EVIL, EGG MAN!" Ashelin cheered as she ran over to Erol and hugged him.

"OKAY! THAT'S IT!" Erol roared as he threw Ashelin off of him.

"What's the matter? You should be happy that you're the hero…" Ashelin whimpered.

"HAPPY! HAPPY! You actually think that I'll be happy? When the whole world watches too much TV! YOU ALL MAKE ME SICK! I have an idea! HOW ABOUT YOU ALL GO AND GET LIVES! BLOODY HELL! JAK PUTS A POPCORN BUCKET ON HIS HEAD AND AS A RESULT 4 GROWN MEN RUN AWAY SCREAMING AND CRYING! Now I don't know when you turned into TV drones! But it stops now!" Erol chucked his monthly screaming fit before storming off.

"So…ah…are we gonna listen to him…?" Ashelin asked Veger.

"Of coarse we are Sandy…you know what Sqiudwards like if we don't do what he says…" Veger chuckled as he stood up from the hunched over Seem, position (Okay…that sounds kinda wrong…).

"Now let's go to the Krusty Krab!" Praxis cheerfully said as he appeared out of nowhere.

"Hey yeah Mr. Krabs, that sounds great! Can Gary and Patrick come along too?" Veger said happily as Daxter appeared at his feet.

"Are they paying…?" Praxis asked.

"Sure if that's what you want!" Veger cheered happily as he motioned for Jak to come over.

"Heya Sponge Bob!" Jak cheered, as he approached Veger.

"Hey Patrick! We're going to the Krusty Krab! Let's just hope that Plankton doesn't try to steal another Krabby Patty…" Veger gritted his teeth towards Torn, who was standing in the distance doing nothing of any importance.

"Wow! That sounds like fun! Let's go!" Jak smiled happily as they all headed into the distance.

And so, they never really did grow up…and TV soon became life…reality was locked up in case and thrown in the river to drown…heh…in fact, it's 2nd anniversary is today… And Erol…well…Erol was reality…so he's still floating around in his wooden case…some say he was never seen again…others think he went to another galaxy to be a fun ruiner there…but the smart ones say, that he was smart enough to get out the box, and everyday he get's the world to himself, because everyone else is too stupid to be living their own lives…

END…?

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**Corad: Um, unfortunately a certain...how do I put this...Bijoux...was sent to bed. Only reason is it's ten at night and she's got school tomorrow...and I don't...Mwahahahahahahaa...um...yeah. I was laughing six hours after I read this, one obvious thing was the Praxis and the "Transformers, Robots in disguise" and then he stood through the bumper car. So funny. I hope you guys are struggling to breath too, just like I was. Please leave a reivew and tell Bijoux what you thought. If ya do, we'll write up another one soon and post it. And Shir-ran gets a cookie too for um...guessing right...about the um...author for the last chapter...See ya's later!**


	15. The land of Praxis' excercise plan

**Bijoux: Err...Heh, this fic was inspired by a certain incident invovling a cherry picker (possibly without a driver),knocking down power lines in ourtown...so yeah... I don't own the "Jak and Daxter" sereis, or "Peter Pan", i'm sure if there's anything else in here that I don't own, but anyways...I don't own that either...too lazy to check...nyeh... **

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Palace Stories- May Have Been Cruelly Exaggerated… **

**The land of _Praxis' _(?) Exercise Plan… **

It was a happy day in the Palace of Praxis. The cook was happily cooking fatty foods. Praxis was happily eating those fatty foods. Ashelin was happily cleaning her room. Erol was happily ordering guns over the Internet. Veger was happily trying to get Ashelin's makeup out of his toaster. Yes, it was a happy day.

"Vegmeer! I'm board!" Praxis boomed as he accelerated into Veger's room. Veger rolled his eyes as he put his toaster down and turned around to look at Praxis.

Praxis stood in the doorway scratching his behind, at the same time as drooling and tapping his left foot on the ground as if getting pleasure out of it…Eww…

"Well, I don't have time to entertain you…in case you do get stupider everyday, yesterday you claimed that you could make a toaster into a firework if you put makeup into it then booted it down the stairs…unluckily for _me _you used _my_ toaster! So now_ I _have to clean it out!" Veger spat as he glared at Praxis.

"But that was yesterday…I'm bored today…" Praxis moaned as he began to scratch his butt against the doorframe.

"You really need a living…" Veger sighed at Praxis.

"Fine then! BE THAT WAY! I'M GOING TO MY ROOM!" Praxis screamed before his stomped out the door and down the hallway. Another door not to faraway slammed shut, and Erol's voice was soon heard from Veger's room.

"Um…sir…what are you doing in my room…?" Erol was saying to Praxis, who must've decided that he lived in Erol's room now…

"Oh…I got bored…so yeah…and Mr. Snooty council owner member 300and6 was being mean…so yeah…do I live here…?" Praxis was heard seconds later. (This is from Veger POV type thing. You can't see Praxis or Erol in Erol's room)

"Well…not really…I mean you live in this Palace but this is my room…so…if you don't mind……get out…" Erol voice sounded a bit irritated at the same time as scared that he was defying some one that was more than twice his size.

"What…you want me to leave…(sniff)…okay then…I know when I'm not wanted…(sniff) It's because I'm fat isn't it! ISN'T IT!" Praxis screamed, before a door down the hallway flung open, then slammed shut again. Crying was heard disappearing down the stairs soon later.

"Okay…" Erol sighed as he too exited his room and headed towards Veger's room. It was harassing day today!

Erol:)

Veger:(

(Praxis' room, that night)

"So…so he thinks I'm fat does he…? Well then fine…I don't need him…I don't need any of them…pigs…" Praxis cried as he examined he figure in the mirror.

"Wait a minute…oh my god! I'M FAT!" Praxis clutched his face in horror.

(Ashelin's room, the next day)

"Oh Ashy!" Praxis cheered as he barged into Ashelin's room like he owned the place.

"Oh…hello father…what brings you here…?" Ashelin said as she finished putting up her new Brittany Spears poster.

"Nothing much…" Praxis said as he eyed about the room, "Hey, I like your new poster sweetie…" Praxis said as he happily stepped up to the poster and looked at it with a smile on his face.

"Yeah, they're my new idol…ever since Adam Clayton got caught under a lawn mower…(shudder)…" Ashelin looked up at her Brittany Spears poster.

"Oh I see you got my feminine side…" Praxis said happily as he turned away from the poster. Although Brittany Spears and Baron Praxis looked so unalike, the mention of Ashelin's idol must have made Praxis think it was himself…

Ashelin looked at Praxis with a puzzled face expression.

"So…um…are you gonna join my new exercise clan…?" Praxis asked as he looked at Ashelin with a begging face.

"Err…well…I didn't know you had an exercise clan…" Ashelin said as she looked at the ground with sorrow…pretty soon her own father would have her doing some pathetic excuse of an exercise plan…(Bijoux: Heh…just like my old primary school PE teacher…hey wait a second…oh my god! He even looks like Praxis!(Screams, then eventually dies, people about the place cheer and begin to have parties…-I'm looking in your direction Shir-ran!) Corad: err…back to the story…)

"Well…I do! So are you gonna join…?" Praxis looked at Ashelin happily smiling.

Ashelin was about to give out some lame excuse of why she couldn't do it, but praxis butted in.

"Oh…and just for further reference…_you_ don't want _me_ to climb into the crawl space again…do _you_!" Praxis hissed and glared in a threatening manner.

"I…err…sure I'll join…" Ashelin nervisouly chuckled. At this Praxis began to smile again.

"Good! Meet me outside the Palace in about half an hour! Kay!" Praxis happily cheered as he walked out Ashelin's room, closing the door behind him.

"Oh great…just great…" Ashelin sighed irritably before sitting on her bed and growling at the memory of Praxis.

"Now, to Erol's room…" Praxis said as he walked down the hallway towards Erol.

"Oh Erol!" Praxis screeched into the wooden door as he knocked in a bounding manner.

"Oh dear god no…" Erol's muffled words escaped through the wooden door as he walked towards it.

"Heh, won't he be surprised when he realizes I'm here…prrp…imagine mistaking my voice for Ashelin's…sure if she came knocking on my door I'd say that…but he should be happy it's me!" Praxis quietly said to himself.

"Um…hello sir…what brings you here…aren't you usually in the kitchen…eating…?" Erol sighed as he opened the door and watched with terror in his eyes as Praxis barged in and sat on his bed.

"Oh…so you do think I'm fat…? Well I'll have you know that I'm starting up a fitness clan! So…you had better join…or…else…" Praxis stumbled for his words.

"Look sir…you already said I didn't have days off anymore, so why are you making me suffer more…?" Erol growled at Praxis.

Praxis looked offended.

"Oh…I thought we were friends…but if you don't wanna (sniff) be in that position anymore I understand…(sniff)…I thought there was at least one person left in the world that still liked me…but…(sniff)…I guess I was wrong…I'll see you around then…" Praxis got too his feet and headed towards the door.

Erol let out a guilty sigh before he forced himself to agree to Praxis' fitness thing.

"YAY!" Praxis boomed happily before bounding out the room like a grizzly bear that had spent too long at the winery…

Praxis bashed into Veger on the way and it wasn't long before he had to join as well.

(Half an hour later)

"Okay…so here's the plan…we all have to run around the city…and then end up back here…okay…" Praxis happily cheered as he held up a map of the city. A red line went through the path that they had to go along.

"So we have Jak, Torn, Vebeer (Veger), Ashelin, Kleiver, Daxter, Samos, Erol, Onin, Pecker, Damas, Seem, Sig, Keira, Daxter, Kleiver, Sig, Erol, Vebut, SaDamos (Samos and Damas fused together…?), Torn, Kor, Vin and myself…" Praxis said as he took down the names of the "contestants".

"Now, anyone who cheats, refuses to go along, or tries to take a break…will pay…" Praxis hissed as a tidal wave of spit flew all over the small crowd of people.

"Now, on your marks…! Get set! GO!" Praxis screamed as leapt out the way of the other contestants. Once they were all out of sight, Praxis quickly hoped into his red cherry picker and drove after them along the track, therefore breaking rule number one: no cheating…

Jak, Daxter, Torn and Keira were all happily jogging together when they heard screams coming from behind them. Jak turned around and almost died at the mere sight of Praxis and his cherry picker, indicating into the industrial section from the bridge thingy above the bazaar.

"Oh my god!" Jak screamed, this caught the attention of the other three. They too turned around and looked at Praxis and his cherry picker vehicle.

"RARARARHHAHAHHAHAAAHAHAAAH!" Praxis cackled from the cherry picker.

"Run faster!" Keira screamed at the others. They all began to sprint as fast as they could towards the other end of the industrial section, near the port.

"Vengeance is mine!" Praxis screamed, as he spotted his competition, not too faraway.

"We surrender!" Torn screamed as the others nodded their heads in agreement.

"That's not an option!" Praxis screamed at the same time as using his controls to scoop Vin up in the lift thingy attached to the cherry picker. Vin was soon catapulted back the way he came, screaming.

"HAHAHAHAHAH!" Praxis laughed.

"Do something Jak!" Keira screamed, there was no reply, "Jak…?" Keira looked to her right but so no Jak next to Torn at the end of the row of 3 scared people.

"Torn…? Where's Jak!" Keira cried towards Torn. Torn shrugged his shoulders.

Keira however soon found out that there would be no need to ask anyone else.

"JAK!" Keira screamed with confusion when she heard Jak's cackling laughs coming from the cherry picker, behind them.

"AAAAHAHAHAAAHAHAAHAAAHAHAH!" Jak and Praxis were both laughing like the lunatics they were as they traveled along. Jak was now sitting next to Praxis in the passenger seat of the cherry picker.

Keira rolled her eyes.

"Men…" She hissed under her breath.

"You all go now!" Praxis screamed as he used his Vin riding technique against Torn, Daxter and Keira. They were all catapulted backwards; they were all screaming there heads off as they soared "majestically" through the sky.

"YEAH!" Jak screamed as he high fived Praxis.

"Look…there's some more…" Praxis hissed as he hunched himself over the wheel and glared at Onin and Pecker.

"Look tinker bell! Neverland!" Pecker said as he pointed at the ground below them, he sounded exactly like Disney's Peter Pan…for some strange reason.

Onin clapped her hands cheerfully at this, as she soared through the sky, two small fairy wings had appeared on her back, and fairy dust was trailing out from behind her.

"Oh no! It's Hook! And he's got Wendy!" Pecker growled as he turned around and levitated backwards.

Onin growled at Praxis and Jak, who were later renamed Hook and Wendy…

"Leave her alone Hook!" Pecker screamed at Praxis.

"Ha! In your dreams boy!" Praxis screamed as put his foot down on the accelerator, making the cherry picker go faster.

"Grrr! The lost boys will avenge Tinkerbelle and me! You just wait Hook!" Pecker growled before the cherry picker's wheels crushed him and Onin.

"RAAAAAAARHHAHAAAAAHAAAAAH!" Praxis laughed.

"Peter!" Jak called after the road kill mess on the ground. He sounded exactly like the Wendy from the Disney Movie.

"Leave them! I see another victim!" Praxis yelled at Jak as he pointed towards Kor and Samos.

Kor was happily staggering along with Samos. They were both using their walking sticks to help them go. They appeared to be doing some form of synchronized walking stick moving/back aching, show.

"Maybe we should show mercy on the oldies…" Jak looked at the two with part guilt.

"Maybe you're right…" Praxis agreed with guilt in his tone.

"NAH!" Jak and Praxis soon later called out at the same time, as they advanced on Kor and Samos.

Samos and Kor spotted their doom and it wasn't long before they began to hobble faster as they screamed like little girls, who happened to be being followed by the neighbor's cat.

"Quickly Samos! Plane B (plane A was to hobble faster)!" Kor screamed as he turned around and turned into Metal-Kor.

"Right!" Samos called out before he rolled up into a little ball. Kor then got his walking stick and used it to bat Samos at the cherry picker.

Samos screamed like a professional wrestler before he collided with the windscreen then fell to his doom, without harming Praxis, nor Jak.

"Oh shi…" Kor moaned before his was run over by the cherry picker.

"You hit like a grandma!" Jak called out to Kor. This soon resulted in Jak getting cursed by Onin, and he was soon turned into a blender with a goatee and yellow hair. His goggles were still on his "head"…

"Aww…not again…SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEM!" Jak called out, he was in search of Seem; on the count of she was the only one who could change him back, now.

"What…?" Seem moaned unenthusiastically as she appeared out of nowhere, next to Jak.

"Can you change me back…?" Jak whimpered.

"Do I get paid…?" Seem hissed at Jak.

"Well…I guess I could get you some of those bratz dolls that you wanted…" Jak said.

"Deal…" Seem hissed before turning Jak back then disappearing in a puff of smoke.

"YAY! Hey…wait a sec…aww damn…" Jak looked down and realized he was wearing a pink dress.

"Ha-ha!" Praxis laughed before he put on one of his favorite CD's, and began to sing along to it.

"I'm a Barbie Girl…in a Barbie world…life in plastic…it's fantastic…you can brush my hair…undress me anywhere!" Praxis sang. The last line was followed by Praxis underwear getting chucked out the window of the cherry picker.

"Hey…wait a minute…how does that work if you never took off your pants…" Jak asked as he looked at Praxis in confusion.

"I don't know…" Praxis whimpered as he fidgeted in an uncomfortable manner.

(Meanwhile)

"HA! Those morons will never beat me now!" Veger hissed as he high jacked a guard cruiser and began to speed along the port area towards the Palace.

It wasn't long before Veger had made it back to the Palace and was happily waiting in the foyer for the others…

(Praxis and co. destruction)

"I'm bored…I don't wanna do this anymore…I quit!" Praxis moaned as he stopped the cherry picker and walked into the Chinese restaurant not to faraway. Jak stayed in the cherry picker and waited for Praxis' return…it had been about 15 minutes before Jak decided that Praxis had in fact broken rule number 2 and 3, no refusing to go along, and no having breaks.

"Okay…" Jak said as he changed into the drivers seat. Jak started the cherry picker's engine and it wasn't long before he was going through the port laughing like a lunatic.

"RAAARAAARAAARAAARAAA!" Jak's booming laughs echoed around the city as he drove the cherry picker directly into the port. The cherry picker sank to the bottom of the port, but Jak kept driving. The lift of the cherry picker was sticking out of the surface of the water so you could tell where it was going. Jak drove straight through a security wall and made a giant hall in it.

"Okay then Jak…you do that…" Ashelin said to herself as she jogged along the port.

(At the Chinese restaurant)

"I'm sorry sir…but as I said 10 time already…we do not sell big Mac…" A Chinese woman was trying to explain to Praxis that McDonalds food was not available at a Chinese restaurant.

"But I'm the Baron…you have to take my order…" Praxis cried at the lady.

"I know sir…but we only make Chinese food…" the lady sighed as Praxis began to cry.

"Well then fine!" Praxis screamed before he stormed out the door and headed towards McDonalds.

Praxis didn't really notice, nor did he care that his cherry picker was gone; he only cared about his big Macs right now.

Praxis soon appeared at McDonalds.

"I'm sorry sir but we don't sell fried rice, prawn crackers, wantons or dim sins…" A McDonalds teenage boy was trying to explain to Praxis that Chinese food was not available at McDonalds.

"But I'm Praxis…you have to feed me…" Praxis cried at the teen boy.

"I know sir…but we only make fatty cheese burgers and greasy milkshakes and chips…" The teen sighed as Praxis began to cry.

"Well then fine!" Praxis screamed before he stormed out the door and headed towards the Chinese restaurant.

Praxis soon arrived in the Chinese restaurant…

"I'm sorry sir…but we no sell big Mac…"

"But I'm the Baron…you have to take my order…"

"I know sir…but we no make McDonalds food…we make Chinese food…"

"Well then fine!"

(sometime later)

"I'm sorry sir…but we don't sell fried rice, prawn crackers, wantons or dim sins…"

"AWWW STUFF IT!" Praxis boomed before he stormed out of McDonalds and towards KFC.

"Err…yeah…I'll take a chicken burger…a large fries, a large coke, a large chicken popcorn, a twister…and some gravy…oh and don't forget the family pack…" Praxis happily talked through the speaker thingy at the KFC drive through.

"Okay sir your order comes too…" The order-taking lady on the other line stopped at the price naming when she heard Praxis' gun getting loaded.

"Err…your order comes to nothing…" The lady laughed nervously, "Please drive forward to first window sir…"

Praxis smiled happily as he slowly moved forward. Praxis was pretending to be in a car as he held onto an invisible steering wheel and changed gears with an invisible clutch.

"Okay sir…seeing you ordered so much food, there'll be a short wait so…(gun clicking noise)…err…or not…" the lady at the window looked at Praxis with a scared face expression.

(Meanwhile at the Palace)

"I will never do that again…" Ashelin panted as she and Erol entered the foyer of the Palace.

"Hah, look who's slow and unfit!" Veger said as he stood watching Ashelin and Erol.

"Hey…why aren't you tired…?" Erol raised an eyebrow at Veger; it was impossible for even Cathy Freeman to run that coarse without having a heart attack halfway.

"I don't know…probably because I'm so fit and healthy…" Veger boomed at the two poor, bedraggled soulless, souls, on drugs.

"Oh…and this comes from the man, from when we went hiking, took two steps up a hill and started to complain that they were having a heart attack?" Ashelin hissed at Veger as she and Erol collapsed on the floor.

Veger looked offended at this but didn't bother to argue. He remembered the last time that he pissed Ashelin off. He was dangling off a flag pole by his underwear, for 3 weeks…

"PAAAAAAAARTY!" Praxis came bounding into the Palace with his mouth full of food.

Ashelin and Erol moaned at the idea, but Damas, Sig and Kleiver appeared at the Palace in less than 2 minutes, just from the mention of the word.

And so, they all partied…this party resulted the Palace disappearing into the Bermuda Triangle and never coming back…and it still stands in the middle of Haven city today…covered in scratches…(?)

And Jak…well…he was never seen again…and he still drives that cherry picker right before everyone's eyes through the city…and they all still say…where is Jak now, when some weirdo with greeny yellow hair runs over them in a red cherry picker…where is Jak…and who is this lunatic named Jak, who drives around the city wearing a name tag labeled Jak…but still…no one ever saw Jak again…so sad…

END…?

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**Bijoux:...err...what the hell was that! (spits angrily at the computer screen, wanting the money that was never paid, back.)...errr...anyways...I really don't understand my own ending for this story...I think I was on some form of drug...um...is a tea towel a drug...? Nyeh...please review...anonymous moron commands you! (points accusingly at the kettle, located not to far away. Kettle is laughing like a drunken drunk ondrugs...)...what is it with me and drugs and beer...? I hate that stuff... (dies from pounding headache that has occured for the past 3 hours. People cheer and have parties- Shiran, I'm lookin in you direction...again...you too Gohan11!. Bijoux melts and runs down a drain that has appeared out of nowhere of any impotance) oh god this is long...I must be lonely...oh god will some one email me!**


	16. Knights of the round table idiocy

**Corad: WWWHHHHOOOOHHHH! Sorry it's been soooo long! Damn school and limited time to write. Oh well, this is one that I started about two weeks ago, but only just finished it today. It may not be as funny as the others, but hey...at least it's an update! Now, this has a show called 'Sir Gadabout' in it. This show is just a kid show of King Arthur, and the Knights of the round table. If any of you've seen this, you'll be able to understand it better. If not, you should be able to understand it. It's called Sir Gadabout, worst knight in the land. If you want to know more, just look it up. Has heaps of stuff on it if you're bothered.**

**I don't own Jak and Daxter, or Sir Gadabout. Hope you guys enjoy this very late update.**

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Palace Stories – may have been exaggerated**

"**Knights of the Round table" idiocy**

"Look Erol, I think I'm the one to make the decisions here," the Baron bellowed at Erol who was just sitting next to him at the dining table. Erol cowered slightly after a tidal wave of spit flew over him. He wasn't sure why Praxis had ordered him, Ashelin, Torn, Veger and Jak to sit around the table, as he sat in his new throne, wearing a crown.

"But, I didn't say anything," Erol replied, wiping away some spit off his mask. Praxis snorted and flicked his hand. "Of course ya did!" he shouted back. Erol rolled his eyes, and lowered his forehead to the table top. "Now, we are all here to discuss the problem with Erol. As you all know he's been nicking all the pudding and stashing it in his bar fridge," Praxis said casually, flicking through some paper, pretending to look important when the paper was in fact little kiddy stick men he'd drawn earlier.

"Sir, I'm right here," Erol growled, his voice being muffled by the top of the table. Praxis snorted again. "No ya not! Don't lie Erol," he said, turning back to his men, which he'd christened the Knights of the Round Table. "But sir. I haven't been nicking the pudding. I make it myself. You're the one whose been taking it out the public fridge!" Erol spat, lifting his face off the table. Praxis just glared at him through his left eye, before shrugging.

"Ok, fine. We are here to take care of the Ashelin problem then. Has anyone else realized a considerable amount of brown hair has been left in my bathroom?" he asked, shuffling his kiddy drawings again. The Knights Table just stayed silent, and Ashelin was looking as if she was about to explode in rage. "Father, that's your hair. I have this reddish pink hair. You have the brown," she said, trying to sound calm. Praxis turned his left eye to her. "Um, Ashelin sweetie. Why are you here?" he asked.

"You forced me!" she spat through clenched teeth. Veger, Jak and Torn were all worrying it'd be their turn next. I mean, the Baron never leaves anyone out. Apart from those two or three kids in school which he claimed were too 'fat' to play baseball. "Ashelin, is anyone stopping you from leaving then?" Praxis said, rolling his eyes. Ashelin stood up to leave, but was met by Praxis' hand pushing her back down.

"But you said I could leave!" she cried, turning her shocked face to her father. Praxis sniggered and flicked his hand again. "No Ashelin. When did I say that?" Ashelin rolled her eyes and slumped in her chair next to Praxis. Erol was also slumping in the chair on the other side of Praxis. "You guys are lousy Knights. You, Lancelot, get me some chocolate cake. A whole one!" Praxis roared, pointing to Erol. Erol got up, and wandered slowly out the room. The other "knights" were wondering whether sending Erol out, alone, was a good idea. Knowing him, he wouldn't come back.

"Ok, while we're waiting. You, Sir Prise, sing a song to entertain me," Praxis demanded, eying Torn expectantly. Torn looked about his comrades for help, but everyone else seemed to be ignoring him, or trying to anyway. "Praxis sir, I don't sing. And I am not this Sir Prise guy. In fact, I don't know why I'm here. I mean, I hate you!" Torn said loudly enough for the whole palace to hear. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear Erol cackling loudly at it.

"You are a knight, and with a knight comes respect for his king. Am I not King Arthur? Don't I deserve respect?" Praxis said all dramatically, standing up in his seat and doing all these crazy, over-rated gestures with his arms. The others just stared at him, but Ashelin figured that seeing she was related to this thing, she'd better do something about it.

"Father, you are not a king. You are not King Arthur. You are a baron, who seemed to take that position by force. Stop calling yourself a king, and stop calling us your knights!" Ashelin exclaimed, panting for breath. Praxis looked to her in boredom. "Shut up Gadabout. Nobody cares what you think," he spat, turning back to his other three "knights". "So ah, when exactly is this "Lancelot" coming back with the cake?" Jak asked suddenly.

Praxis turned his gaze to Jak, and his eye evolved into a slit. "Why are you here, home wrecker!" he snapped, pointing at Jak. Jak cowered slightly into the chair, before answering the "king". "Well, you actually asked me to come. Don't you remember?"

**Flashback**

Jak was happily sweeping out the underground, seeing Torn was too lazy and couldn't get off his ass. He was thinking about buying snacks from the snack stand after he'd finished, when he was met by a loud, screaming Baron voice. Next thing he knew, Praxis had run through the door (literally) and was leaping down the stairs, screaming for his knights. Unfortunately for Jak and Torn, they had both been in the underground, resulting in the Baron picking them both up over his shoulder and taking them back to the "castle". From that day on, they had been known as "knights" for some reason. Both Jak and Torn thought he'd been watching to much king based shows, or Sir Gadabout had finally taken his brain to the mushed stage.

**End Flashback**

"When did I do that? I think you were hallucinating, Sir Prano," Praxis snorted, turning to the door. "Ah, if it isn't my fellow Mister Bunny man. Come for some tea, I presume?" he said, looking into thin air. The others just sat quietly, wondering if the Baron had been taking some form of drug over the past few days.

"Um, sir, there's nothing there," Veger muttered, glancing to the spot where Praxis was staring and talking to. Praxis turned back to Veger, and his eye turned to a slit….again…"You can't tell me what's there or not! I am the king! I own you, Sir Gestion," Praxis spat, resting his arms on the table. The room calmed down after a bit, and stayed that way until Erol (aka Lancelot) returned holding a big, round chocolate cake.

"Here you go sir. Just as you requested," Erol said, laying the cake down in front of Praxis. Praxis giggled enthusiastically, before ordering Lancelot to take a seat next to him. Erol sat down like he was told, and watched in horror as Praxis stood up, and lifted the large cake off the table. He cleared his throat, and raised the cake like it were Simba (the bit where Rafiki holds cub Simba up high…you know, it's at the very start of the Lion King) "I announce a new heir to my throne. My very own, daughter!" Praxis cried in joy, a tear full of happiness escaping out his one eye.

Ashelin knew not to get her hopes up. As far as she was concerned, Praxis had always thought she were a son. So, when he announced a daughter was taking his crown, she knew he wasn't talking about her. Instead, he was talking to the cake. Yes, the cake.

"I want you to all applaud this joyous moment, and together, we shall make my daughter feel welcome to be amongst us," Praxis said, tossing the cake up happily. Unfortunately for him, a ceiling fan had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere, and it was rotating pretty fast. Well, the fastest it can to be exact.

"Sir, you idiot!" Veger cried, as the rest of them all watched the cake turn in slow motion towards the ceiling fan. "NNNOOOO!" they all roared in slow motion, as the cake flew into the fan blades, and rotated around. This bit's in slow motion too, okay. Well, the cake flew into the blades, and was torn apart forcefully, bits of chocolate icing, chocolate cake, candles, and that fancy lettering that was on top of it saying "Happy Birthday Veger". Yes, it all flew into the fan, and was spat out, like it had been through a blender.

The contents flew over everything, mainly Erol and Veger though. It hit the ceiling, the walls, the table, the carpet, the people, even Daxter who had appeared beside Jak for no real reason. It was a horrid sight. After the cake gas had cleared, and the remnants had settled down into the various objects, sceneries and people, Praxis applauded loudly, before walking out the room, covered in cake.

The others sat there, trying to get over the fact that they were all engrossed in cake. Erol was having a hard time getting over it, coz he was the one who actually used up precious energy to go find it. Veger was pretty mad too, coz the Happy Birthday Veger icing writing had hit him squarely between the eyes, so he now knew whose cake it had been.

Ashelin growled lowly in rage, wiping cake out her hair and off her face. Jak high fived Daxter before crawling around the room, and scooping up the cake bits and eating them. And Torn, he didn't say or do anything. He just sat there, bits of cake and icing dripping off his dreadlocks and onto his face, where it then dripped down and fell on the rest of him.

Well, after people had calmed down…which was about half a day later…they all decided to leave the room. It didn't really need to be cleaned, coz Jak and Daxter had somehow managed to eat all the cake particles. But once every one had left, Praxis returned once again, with 5 new people, and told them they were the "knights of the round table". This time it had Onin, Keira, Kor, Samos and Sig. But yeah, that's not important. The important bit is, that the cake ordeal repeated it self. In fact, it repeated it self how many times there are groups of 5. If that makes sense…let's just both say, it was a pointless, nightmarish day for Haven City.

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**Corad: So, was that ok? I mean, you guys waited for ages for it. So sorry for that! Please forgive us! Well, anyhow, if you have the time to review, it'd be great. I'll try and write a new chapter this weekend, coz I've done most my schoolwork for this week. I'll see you guys in the next chappie! Sorry again!**


	17. Grenade Egg

**Corad: O...kay...now...this is a VERY late Easter fic...wait, this is a very late Palace stories fic too! I am soooo sorry for the...how many months was it? Well, when ya write so much random stupidity, you seem to run out of ideas, and it takes a while to think up of more random stupidity...so, I thought up this...it's a late Easter based chapter...it's still funny though. So, I hope you guys can try and forgive us for the long, long, long wait, and really hope you can enjoy this.**

**Don't own Jak and Daxter...or Easter...or the Easter eggs...**

**

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**** Palace Stories – May…HAS been exaggerated**

**Grenade egg **

It was a great day for the Baron of Haven…he was happily sitting in his throne, awaiting the day…yes…that very day where every single person in haven city had to sacrifice an Easter Egg to him…yes…that Easter Day of Doom…

"Erol! I demand satisfaction!" the Baron roared, slamming his fist down on the arm of his throne, causing it to fall off and shatter into many pieces of chair arm on the floor. He got no reply, and roared again…and again…and again…until Ashelin appeared at the door, her face all hot and sweaty.

"Father! What is it?" she cried, panting heavily as she strode through the door, clutching at her side. Praxis' glare turned to glee, when he spotted Ashelin struggling to breathe as she wandered up to him. "I could hear your booming voice from the other side of the city walls!"

"Oh…Ashelin…well…I wanted Erol to come here, so he and I could discuss his lacking…in the um…Easter egg department…" Praxis said casually, doing little circles on the remaining chair arm. Ashelin raised an eyebrow up at him, and rolled her eyes.

"Father…he already gave you an Easter Egg…I already gave you an Easter egg…THE WHOLE CITY HAS ALREADY GIVEN YOU AN EASTER EGG!" she yelled, spit flying from her mouth and somehow colliding with Praxis' face, even though he was sitting twenty meters away from her raging figure.

"But Ashelin! I'm missing one!" he cried, his voice about to crack like a little kid's who were denied candy. "I should have 300…but I've only got 300!" he spat, pointing to a whole pile of Easter eggs. "See! I'm missing 5!"

"You said you were only missing one! And then you said you've got 300! What's your deal!" Ashelin said, striding over to the Easter egg pile and looking at the mass of chocolate flooding the section of red carpet.

"But…I got one, and it went smoosh coz I sat on it by accident…and that was Erol's! I demand he give me another one!" Ashelin looked at her father in disagreement. "I wanna eat them all!" Praxis cried, dropping off the chair, and collapsing in hands and knees, screaming in a shameful manner.

"Father…it's only one egg. So what if you sat on it…it's not the end of the world…" Ashelin tried to reassure her drama queen for a father. Praxis growled as tears ran down his face, and stood up, turning around. He pointed to a mass of brown, melted chocolate, with some colorful, red foil mixed in with it on his behind

"Does that look edible to you! Huh? I bet you wouldn't eat that!" Praxis cried, as Ashelin tried to hold back a snort of laughter. "I bet you wouldn't risk your life to eat that!" he carried on, and just as Ashelin controlled her fit of giggles, Praxis had begun to scrape some of the melted goo from his pants, and eat it…it was a horrid sight…

"See, I bet you wouldn't want to eat all this disgusting…delicious…drool…" Praxis began, as he turned around and Ashelin saw some chocolate around his mouth, looking like an extra beard.

"Father…you're eating it now…" she said, watching as Praxis began running around in circles, trying to eat the stuff on his back. "Besides father…you have enough there anyway! Why don't you just change outta those chocolate infested pants, and let the maid clean them for you…"

"And let Mrs. 'I rule the laundry and everything in it' eat it all! Get a life Ash-fan!" Praxis boomed, stopping short and looking at her in disbelief. Ashelin shook her head, and began to leave, until her father's gleeful yelp told her something bad was about to happen.

"Look what I found! Lookie! It's all mine!" Praxis shouted, holding a round thing up to the air. He was just about to bite into it, when Ashelin screamed out and ran over to him.

"That's a grenade! You can't eat that!" she cried, and Praxis stopped in mid bite, and looked at Ashelin. He had a relaxed look on his face, and his eye brow was raised.

"Ashelin…Ashelin…Ashelin…if only you were as smart as me…if it were a grenade, it would be round, large…and be green…with a little pin on the top to pull…" Praxis said casually, as if he knew everything. Ashelin's shocked face looked from her father, to the round, large green thing with a pin on the top…

"See, Ashelin…this is not a grenade…coz it doesn't have the…hey wait a minute…It does have the pin!" Praxis shouted and his face turned to alarm. For some strange reason, he pulled the pin on it, and it began to tick.

"What ya do that for!" Ashelin spat, and watched hopelessly as her father pegged the grenade to the other side of the room, where it exploded…causing half the room to mutilate. Once the smoke had cleared, the two looked around at the huge hole in the side of the wall…in fact, the grenade had blown up the whole outta wall of the throne room, as well as the ceiling section and floor section the grenade had hit. Smoke lined the air, and plaster and paint lay across the remaining floor.

"Father…why on EARTH DID YOU DO THAT!" Ashelin screamed, her face burning with rage as she pointed to the wrecked part of the room. Praxis shrugged, and turned to the door, to see a shocked Erol glaring past them all towards the mess.

"You…you destroyed the one thing I was going to inherit when you finally carked it…you killed her!" Erol shouted in distress, collapsing on his knees and crying like the pathetic commander he was. "How…how did you… why did you!" he said, his voice cracking as he stared up at the Baron.

"Well, you didn't give me an egg, and then I sat on it…and then I ate a grenade…and then Ashelin threw it…and then God blew up the room…" Praxis muttered…his eyes avoiding those of Erol's and his daughter's.

"That's not what happened!" Ashelin spat, crossing her arms in anger and impatience. "You were complaining that he didn't give you an egg! And then you sat on it, began to eat the remnants off your pants, and then attempted to eat a form of nuclear weapon! And on top of all that, you threw it after pulling the pin!" she yelled in fury. Her face gradually turning red from rage and lack of air.

Both Erol and Praxis looked at Ashelin as if she were mad and belonged in the mental institution. "Ok…Erol… who are you going to believe…me? Or this big, fat, stupid dummy!" Praxis said, pointing to his daughter. Erol looked between the two, and stood up, still sulking because he could no longer inherit the throne room.

"Well, I'll have to say I believe Ashelin sir…it's just, she's always right about these things (Shows Erol hanging from the basket ball courts outside, with Ashelin laughing in victory)" Erol muttered, remembering that time when he disagreed with the likings of Ashelin and ended up as a monument in the sports court.

"I see…well, if it's going to be that way, then fine…I'll just have to hijack your room, won't I?..." Praxis said, feeling left out and hurt because Erol had chosen Ashelin over him. "If you want to be a big, fat meanie, then fine! I own your room now!"

"But sir! Your room isn't destroyed! You blew up the Throne room! Not your Bedroom!" Erol shouted at Praxis' disappearing back. Praxis didn't stop though…he just kept retreating out the room, and a distant bedroom door slam could be heard over the crying Erol was making. "He took my room!" he yelled in defeat, and wandered outta the room too, leaving Ashelin alone to look at all the mess…

Why Praxis actually blew up the room in the first place was a mystery to her…it was even a mystery why he over ruled Erol and nicked off with his bedroom…She couldn't even understand why Erol was upset about it either. She knew that her father's room was ten times the size of Erol's small one, and it had an inbuilt kitchen, spa and it's very own throne room in it. The only thing she knew though…was to never celebrate Easter again…or…wait…that could lead to family disputes…um, let's just say she banned the use of grenades in the palace…heh…

The end…

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**Corad: So...was that ok? I wonder if anyone is even reading this anymore...It's been so long since and update occured...poor Palace Stories. Hopefully I'll get this story back on track though, and we'll get an update more often. I've gotta convince Bijoux that writing Jak and Daxter is still amusing lol. Seems to have strayed away from us Jak and Daxter lovers. I'll bring her back though...I'll make sure of it...(Shakes fist towards sister's bedroom) Ok, review if you want...I kinda need to know if ppl are still gonna read this, coz well...if no one's reading, then there's no point writing more...get my drift?...hope so...well, for those who are reading this, hope ya enjoyed the lateness, and I'll do all I can to get up another chapter soon. Toodles!**  



	18. Underground of Hatred

**Corad: Heh...I have never had so many reviews for one chapter before...I mean...WHOAH! For that, I won't stop writing these idiotic editions. I wanna thank you all though! Thanks for telling me you are all still reading! Now I'll keep at it. And, I've gotten Bijoux almost to the stage of writing some too. I know her stories seem to be more funny and random than mine, but I try. Anyhow, thanks again ppl! This is another chapter for you guys. And, I answered a request, and it has Torn in it. Was hard to think up a situation Torn would be in, but I think I succeeded. So, I hope you like this one!**

**Don't own Jak and Daxter...never will thank God...

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****Palace Stories – may have been exaggerated**

**Underground of Hatred**

When things come to the worst, just run for your life. That's what Torn did anyhow…wanna hear the story? (Readers shake their heads rapidly) Of course ya do! Now, our idiotic tale begins in the underground, where a dark Torn waits, with a dark purpose (Bijoux: Hey, this isn't Aladdin!) Sure it is…or not…well, the tales starts in the underground. End of story. Happy now? (Bijoux: Just write the damn thing!)

"What are you doing Jak?" the leader of the underground muttered in frustration, as Jak tore yet another strip of wall paper from the walls, and ate it slowly. Jak looked up at his "God" and chewed the remains of paper quickly before answering.

"Eating…what does it look like?" but Torn never got to answer Jak, for a loud, banging noise on the underground door, followed by numerous gun shots, were heard outside. Before Torn had time to check it out, Erol had appeared, running down the stairs at top speed, before tripping and flying head first into the ground.

"Why the hell are you here!" Torn spat, as he watched Erol stand up slowly, and brush himself off as if he were important or something.

"Well, you see….the Baron kinda…is that wallpaper you're eating!" Erol cried, watching as Jak tore another lot of brown colored paper off the walls. Jak nodded slowly, and watched as Erol's disgusted face turned to joy. "Let me in!" he said happily, running over to the blonde one and sitting down beside him, yanking the paper outta Jak's hands.

"Why would you eat Wall Paper!" Torn yelled, as they began feasting upon their kill…err…paper…he got no reply, then turned to the Ottsel who had appeared outta no where, complaining of a large hippo hanging dangerously close to the underground. This hippo was soon to be identified as Praxis, when he ran down the stairs of the underground, and did a repeat or Erol: Tripping half way then flying head first into the floor boards.

"Why the hell! You two are the bad guys! Why in god's name are you here, in my home! In my secret base! Who told ya where it was!" Torn spat, watching in anger as Praxis stood up, and brushed himself off too. He gazed about the three elves and Ottsel, before seeing the wallpaper feast happening.

"Hey! I want in!" he bellowed, sitting down on the ground between Jak and Erol at such force it sent a split down the floor boards and up the back wall. Chunks of plaster and paint began to fall from the ceiling as a result.

"He's been here for only a second, but yet he's managed to cause irreparable damage…" Torn growled under his breath, seeing the three idiots eating wallpaper. He was getting fairly angry at this point, when the Ottsel decided to "Join" in too…

"O...Kay…why are you here Praxis? Erol?" Torn asked, after somehow managing to calm himself down. Both Erol's and Praxis' heads turned to look at the disrupter, and shrugged. Torn however glared at them both, and demanded an answer from the way his eyes burned in rage. Erol swallowed his wallpaper, and stood up.

"Well, Praxis took my room last night… I had to sleep in the laundry…and well, that maid he's hired it kinda crazy. Started throwing numerous things at my head last night while I tried to sleep…also prodded me a few hundred times with that broom of hers…see…" Erol muttered in reply, lifting up his shirt and showing Torn a few purple bruises on his back that signified a broom-prodding spree.

"That still doesn't explain why you're both here," Torn spat, and glared at Erol who had begun to eat wallpaper again. Praxis stood up this time, and scratched his backside carelessly before answering the agitated underground leader.

"Well, we were both happily sitting there, and then Baron Praxis just appeared outta nowhere. He claimed that we ate all his fridge goodness, and then threw us out. I tried to protest, but Praxis…god, he just doesn't listen…" Praxis said dramatically. Torn rolled his eyes and wandered away from the idiots to sit at his desk.

"That's not what happened!" Erol stood up, and started protesting. "You took over my room, so while I was forced to sleep in the laundry, I decided to get the hell out! You followed me for some reason!" Erol thundered, pointing accusingly at the Baron. Praxis' gaze moved onto the angry, angry face of his commander, before dropping to the floor, ashamed of himself.

"I…I was kicked out too Erol…Praxis kicked me out!" he bellowed, tears running down his face. The whole underground fell silent, as the Baron told his fantasy tale. "It all happened about 40 years ago…"

"Congratulations Mrs. Praxis…It's a baby boy."

"NNNOOOOOOOOO!"

(Back to present)

"Where is this going?" Torn asked suddenly, as Praxis did a remake of that horrid day at the hospital. "Why the hell are you even here?" Praxis shrugged his shoulders and continued his story…or what he thought was a story.

"And there I was…sitting…waiting patiently…it was my moment of glory. I just had to achieve this…it was my destiny…I just had to win that twenty bucks from the pokie machine…but…but…I lost!" Praxis wailed, running to one of the spare beds and collapsing in it, his face burrowing into a pillow and his screams were muffled slightly. Note: Slightly.

The others just looked at him as if he were mad. Torn shook himself out of that horrid trance of almost feeling sorry for the Baron, but Praxis had sat up again, and wiped the tears out his face. He stood up, and started singing that Holy Grail song…for no real reason. It caused the others to receive headaches after he'd finished and had disappeared upstairs.

"What the hell was that?" Jak asked, rubbing at one of his ears. Torn smashed his forehead into the tabletop repeatedly, trying to get the Baron's singing voice out of his head, and Erol was fumbling around his gun holster, looking as if he were about to suicide or something. But he didn't…instead he aimed his pistol at ceiling, and shot three times, the bullet flying through the ceiling and leaving behind three holes.

"AARRRGGGHHHHH!" Torn, Jak, Erol and Daxter heard Praxis scream, and all of them thought Erol had succeeded in shooting their "Dear" Baron. But, when Praxis returned shortly afterwards, he laid a large, fully loaded sandwich roll on the desk, and pointed at it.

"You…you killed her…" he mumbled, and the other's just looked at three bullet holes spread over the roll. He broke down in a fit of tears… again, and took his dead roll over to the same bed he was at before. Crying loudly, he shoved the large roll into his mouth, bullets and all, and began to eat it at a rapid pace, bits of lettuce and ham flying everywhere. The others just looked at him in disgust; their jaws all-wide open.

"It's like watching a lion shred a guy to bits…" Erol said blankly, watching as Praxis had achieved his sandwich eating thing and then stood up, preparing to do another "class" act.

"Ladies and gentleman…I would like to say (BUURRRRPPPPPP!)" Praxis' loud belch echoed around the underground, and the vibration it made through the floor and walls sent Torn's favorite stack of shelves hurtling to the floor. It shattered into thousands of bits of wood, and all his belongings that were sitting on the shelves before it fell, were also shattered into many bits.

"God…Erol…where did that come from?" Praxis asked, scratching his backside again, before yawning widely and sitting back on the bed. The three watched Praxis lie down, and fall asleep within seconds.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm getting outta here before he wakes up again," Jak muttered, grabbing Daxter from the table and rushing out the door, making his own sound effects of a Bomb Siren.

"Ok…tell me Erol. Why is he here? Can't you leave and take him with you?" Torn spat, looking at Erol as he too found a bed to sleep on. Torn still couldn't understand why either of them were here. He couldn't seem to figure it out. Maybe he should just throw a Jak and leave.

"Mummy! That's my chocolate hair gel!" Praxis cried, making waving movements with his arms as he slept, and by the sounds of it, he was dreaming of his mother taking his "chocolate" hair gel. "Give it back! It's (BBUURRPPP!)" Torn Recoiled after yet another disgusting belch, and retreated behind his desk. He grabbed what he thought was important off his desk, and threw it into a small leather bag, before running up the steps of the underground and taking one last glance at the two idiots sleeping. He shuddered at the sight of Praxis now sucking his thumb and ran out the door.

He sighed gratefully at the sight of freedom, and left to go visit Ashelin in the Palace for a couple of hours. He hoped when he got back, the two idiots would be gone…

(2 hours later)

"OH MY GOD!" Torn's shocked and angry voice echoed around the alley way to his base/home. What he saw in front of him, made him collapse in defeat on his knees, screaming for mercy. Yes…his home... was gone…it was just an empty space in between the two surrounding buildings, and there was a gap in the city wall. He shuddered at what may have happened to it. He wasn't sure if one of them…or both for that matter, had blown it up…he wasn't sure if Erol had sold it to some developer who knocked it down to build some random idiotic building, and he wasn't sure whether Praxis had decided to drive the thing. Yes…drive…

"WWWHHHOOOHHH!" Torn looked up from his defeat looking stance after hearing Praxis' joyous scream, and saw through the city walls to the wasteland, his underground base, moving over the horizon. His eyes widened in horror, as he saw it attached to the back of the dune buggy Ram Rod, and cried in shame as he saw Praxis at the wheel, screaming something like "I'm taking this thing to Mexico!"

So…from that day on, Praxis, or the underground, were never seen again. Well, they both turned up the next day…coz Ashelin said something about hiring an ice cream truck for the little Kiddy day that was approaching. So, with Praxis' return, also came the underground. Although it was parked in some random spot coz the Baron was too lazy to put it back, Torn was just happy to have it back. Even if it was sitting right outside the Palace…outside the enemies' base…oh…and um Erol…Well, let's just say he…um…went back to his laundry of hate before Praxis nicked off with the Underground……

End…? …

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**Corad: That...didn't make any sense...oh well. I hope you guys somehow enjoyed reading this. It was very strange I know...why they ate wall paper is beyond me, so don't ask me ok...althoug I like...wrote it, I haven't a clue. Now, if you guys want to review, then that's cool. Seeing I know there's readers for this, you don't need to review unless ya want to! It does inspire me lol. But yeah...hope you liked this edition, and we have about two more stories thought up in our heads which I'll get Bijoux to write. See ya next time ppls!**


	19. Legend Of The Beer Baron

**Corad: Howdy again ppls. I know this is kinda late, but it took me a while to think up and write a new edition. I was surprised I even finished it tonight. But I'm glad I did. Now, this story sort of revolves around a theory off a Simspon episode, so for any of you who watches it, you'll probably know by looking at the title...but yeah. I hope you guys enjoy this next chapter!**

**Don't own Jak and Daxter or this theory...**

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Palace Stories – May have been exaggerated**

**Legend of the Beer Baron**

It was a grand day for Baron Praxis when he awoke one Saturday afternoon…yes, afternoon…

"Howdy folks!" he bellowed, strolling down the hall with a cheesy grin spread across his face. Erol and the couple of guards he was speaking with all turned in his direction, each with an eyebrow raised. "So ah…where's the cake?" Praxis asked happily, rubbing his hands together in await.

"What cake sir?" Erol asked, taking a step away from the gorilla based Baron. Praxis flicked his hand like a snob, and did that hair flick thing too…except…his hair can't really be flicked…does he even have hair under that helmet anyway? Nyeh…let's just say he does.

"Sir…we haven't had cake since…last night. When you requested it for dinner," Erol muttered, crossing his arms in annoyance. Praxis shrugged, and continued down the hall, until he saw Veger hunched over the telly in the lounge, a beer bottle grasped tightly in his hand. He was shouting and kicking at the TV, which made Praxis highly mad.

"YOU! Get away from Susanne!" Praxis bellowed, striding into the room, to see Veger kick the TV again. Veger spun around, and dropped the beer bottle on the ground, which smashed into thousands of beer bottle shards. "You…killed her…" Praxis cried, after watching a tidal wave (exaggerated) of beer hit the TV, and disappear into the holiness.

"Sir! It didn't work! I was only sitting down to watch the daily Waste Lander gladiator show, when to my frustration, the satellite dish was out of order!" Veger spat, watching as the Baron's happy face turned to that of a Raging Rhino's. "Please, if you think I'm drunk! I didn't even open that damn bottle!"

Praxis pointed at the broken bottle on the ground, and then to the drenched telly. "You opened the bottle! I am officially putting a ban on alcohol in Haven city!" he spat, storming out the room ready to organize a funeral for his beloved TV. Somewhere in the Monk Temple, Seem felt enraged for some reason…

"Sir! You can't! It's what keeps us alive!" Veger moaned, following the Baron down the hall, who was in such a bad mood he didn't use the doors…. he just walked through the walls… "Please! Reconsider!" he begged, following Praxis into his room, before he was thrown off the balcony, which had mysteriously appeared out of nowhere.

Veger screamed as he flew a few stories down, before hitting the ground at such force it blew up part of the environment. Praxis sat down on his bed, and cried in shame and loss…he'd never watch his precious telly again…

Three days later the word of the alcohol ban had arisen anger throughout the city, but seeing Praxis was known to make disagreeing people into his food slaves (aka Cooks), no one had bothered to say anything. Instead, they carried on with their boring, alcohol-less lives. Praxis however, was beginning to hate the Baron's new rule. He sat shaking on the couch, after missing his daily rum for the third time running.

"Erol…I…I am going…to deceive this Baron…he is going down," Praxis whispered from his couch position, as Erol wandered into the lounge to gather up some of his pistols he'd left behind. "He…. is just a big, fat, party pooper, who can't hold a grudge against one bottle of beer!" Erol stopped in mid picking up of his gun, to look at his Baron with a raised eyebrow.

"Sir…you are the Baron…if you are not happy with the rule, why not remove it?" Erol suggested, watching as Praxis began to rock backwards and forwards, with his knees to his chest. "Erol…I am not the 'Baron'…I am…the 'Beer Baron'!" he shouted, jumping off the couch and doing some form of victory pose. Erol shook his head in shame, and left the room, muttering stuff about stupidity at its worse.

So, the next few days, Praxis was seen sneaking crate after crate of Alcohol into the city, trying to defy this Baron. He had successfully shipped twenty crates of it into the palace, without being caught, and was selling them on his new website, called was even ahead of himself, and got his own daughter to join his league. Although the rest of the city looked at it as if the baron were stupid or something, Praxis felt he was achieving something, and hoped that someday he could become the Baron of Haven city.

He had even found the recipe for beer soup, in which he ordered his cook to make one night. So, as he and his fellow Palace comrades sat around the knight's round table (was in another chapter…I think…) the beer soup was placed out in the centre of the table. The only one standing after it though was the Baron… seeing his gut can handle anything…the rest of the table members had all fallen unconscious, or had run off for a dunny (toilet) trip. Yes…it wasn't a pretty sight…for Praxis it was, the rest…it wasn't….

So, as he lay in his king…errr…. baron sized bed that night, visions of himself wearing the baron crown drifted through his mind. His next goal was to sneak into the Baron's room, and to steal the famous crown know to be sitting on the famous dressing table. It was a perfect plan…so perfect, that once stolen, he would automatically be baron. There was no way he could lose…

"Father…what on earth are you wearing?" Ashelin exclaimed the following morning, as she sat around the breakfast table with some pancakes in front of her. Praxis lifted his face to look at her, and smiled nervously. "Well?" she asked again, raising an eyebrow, which for her, was a rare sight.

"Ashelin sweetie…if I tell you, promise not to run to the Baron and tell him my plan. Promise? See, I know you worship him and everything, and think he is incredibly hot, but…...What?" Praxis stopped short to see his daughter's face screwed up. She had dropped her fork with the pancake on it to her plate, which clattered loudly. "Was it something you ate" Praxis asked, watching as her jaw dropped just like her fork had done.

"Father! You are the baron! I don't worship you, and where on earth did you get the idea that I find you hot! You are…don't even suggest that!" she hissed, letting her fuming head get the better of her. "Ashelin, I am not Baron. I will become Baron, but for now, keep my secretbetween you and me. Now, what I am planning on doing, is to sneak into the Baron's room tonight…. or today…depends on what time he goes out to the pub…. but yeah. I will sneak into his room, and steal his crown. With it, I shall become Baron, and I can remove his law about no alcohol in the city. Sound like a good plan?" he asked, a grin spread across his face.

Ashelin just stared at him, as he sat down on the chair beside her and grab her plate of pancakes. He began to eat them, unaware that Erol had walked into the room. "SIR! Why are you wearing total black! And why do you have egg beater stuck in your butt!" Erol shot out, approaching Praxis' hunched over back, as he gauged on his kill….errr…pancakes…Praxis grunted in between shoveling pancake into his mouth, which caused Erol to round on Ashelin.

"WELL!" he shouted at her, and she rolled her eyes in return. And so, she went into the Baron's famous scheme explanation to the newcomer, and at the end of it all, Erol burst out in laughter. He slapped his thigh trying to control himself, but failed miserably and found himself rolling around on the floor, struggling to breath. "Why are you laughing?" Praxis finally asked, looking down at Erol after swallowing the last of his…Ashelin's pancakes. Erol managed to calm down, and stood up, brushing dust off him.

"Well, your daughter just told me you're going to steal the Baron's crown. I don't want to intrude on your fantasies or anything sir, but you are the baron, and stealing the crown…. it seems pointless. Get my drift?" he asked, his grin still on his face. Praxis held an expression that told both Erol and Ashelin that he had been confused somewhere along the lines. "I will steal that crown, and prove to you I was right!" Praxis roared, after a few minutes silence of trying to understand this situation. Well…it was about 10 minutes of silence, but we won't go much into it, or the Baron will get enraged….

Praxis became so infuriated at their smirking faces that he got up from his place at the table, and stalked out the room, trying to pull the eggbeater out from his backside. If you're wondering…he attempted to steal some pancake batter while the cook was making the pancakes, and the cook had to defend himself and his batter…so that explains the egg beater.

"Those morons don't know the decency of the Beer Baron…I need that crown…maybe if I steal it now…" the Baron muttered to himself, and began to head back up to his bedroom. He pulled out a black stocking and yanked it over his head, and crept in a sneaky fashion closer and closer to his room. A few guards walked past, and gave the Baron thumbs up in an enthusiastic way, before carrying on down the hall. Praxis eyed them carefully before they were out of sight, and began to inch his way to his room again.

After about 20 minutes of crawling down the hall to his room, Praxis lay panting and gasping for air on the ground. He had never done so much exercise in his life. "Sir…why are you dressed as a burglar, and why are you lying all dead like on the floor?" Veger asked, after coming out his own room, and heading down to the kitchen to eat some pancakes. Too bad there weren't any left for him, seeing fatty ate them all… "Ah, if it isn't my fellow…err, what are you again?" Praxis asked quietly, looking up at Veger as he towered over him.

"I am the head of council! Please tell me you weren't going to steal from my room again?" Veger shot at him, and Praxis sat up, pulling his stocking off his head. He face was covered in sweat, and he wiped it away…before wiping his hand on Veger's trouser leg. "I am going to steal that crown from the Baron. He should be out in the pub right about now, so I don't need to worry about him coming back…. speaking of which, it's time I'm off," he finished, chucking the stocking on the ground and standing up.

"Ta ta," he said to Veger in a posh kinda way, before heading down the hall the way he had just come…this time, it took him 30 seconds to reach the end…. and so, where the Baron actually went that day was a mystery, but when he returned that night, he seemed to have been cured from his Beer Baron idiocy. The whole palace had their own theories as to what happened…Erol believed that Aliens had abducted him and restored his memory…Ashelin thought that he had actually accomplished stealing the crown out of his own room, but Veger believed he had gone to the pub, and had gotten so drunk that his memory returned on his own. He even put in that the Baron hallucinated that he stole the crown, and christened himself Baron once again in the pub…if only Veger knew how right he really was…

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**Corad: Um...don't ask me what that was...I only wrote it lol. Or...wait...that sounds bad. Nyeh, I guess I'm taking after Bijoux now...hey, speaking of which. We have thought up three other story plots, and she is writing one at the moment. We all enjoyed her idiotic writing...so hopefully she'll finish what she started and get it up. If ya got confused also with the Baron, believing that there was another Baron...it only happened coz his mind went weird after not having it's daily rum for a few days. So, there was never another Baron...Praxis was only confused and lived in his fantasy for those crazy days...Well, if you wanna leave a review behind, it'll be muchly appreciated. Maybe it will entice Bijoux to finish her's lol. See ya next time ppls!**


	20. Chronicles of Fatman Part 1

**Corad: Ok...now this is a short story which runs for three chapters. It kinda became too big to be one whole chapter, so it's been cut up. This short story is based on Batman...or sort of anyway...well, let's just say it's how the Baron sees himself as a superhero...if you don't follow Batman and never will, then hopefully you can still understand and enjoy this...but yeah...thank you to all the reviews for our last chapter, and thank you to cardmaster7777 for giving us some funny ideas! We'll use them for sure! Thankyou!**

**Don't Own Jak and Daxter or Batman...thank god...imagine what it would be like if you really did fuse these two together? (shudders) Let's not think about that...****

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Palace Stories – Most likely been exaggerated

**Chronicles of Fatman – Part 1**

"Of all the dastardly deeds the villains have to do, why must they pick today?" Yes…another tale of idiocy. Now, this certain "adventure" happened…or began…one fearful night, located deep in the Palace of the Baron.

"If those villains taste my wrath, they will be screaming for mercy," the Baron sneered, pulling what looked like extra large, black undies over his grey tights. "They think they can run from me, and steal my favorite shampoo brand, but I know they are cowering in fear by the mere thought of me," he continued, now grabbing hold of a large, chunky, golden belt and placing it around his large waist.

"Sir, I don't want to intrude or anything, but do I really have to wear this?" Praxis flicked his hand to get rid of the elf that stood at his doorway, holding up a costume he'd been issued with. "I will show no mercy, and I will be the knight of the night…the darkness that destroys all living things," yes, the Baron had lost it…again…Praxis moved over to his large mirror above his dressing table, and yanked a black looking mask over his head.

"I am…the terror of Haven City…I am, Batman!" he screamed, turning around to look at Erol, still standing in his doorway with an un-amused look on his face. "Fear me!" he bellowed, pointing at the other elf. Erol rolled his eyes, and took a step forward into his room, holding up his costume.

"Fatman more like it," Erol muttered under his breath, laying the costume on the Baron's bed. He turned to see Praxis glaring at him, through his batman imitation mask. "Sir, I don't want to nag, but why are we doing this? It's about 12 at night…everyone's probably in bed, asleep…I would like to be in bed too. I mean, this is so stupid!" Erol cried, sagging his shoulders.

"Pigeon, we are needed by the city to remove those villains plotting against it. We will be its savior, and be remembered at the fighting duo of the night…" Praxis said proudly, pointing to the Robin costume on his bed. Erol took a step back, as Praxis glared at him expectantly. "Father, it seems someone has put this in my room," Ashelin said loudly, wandering into the Baron's room, holding up a batgirl costume.

"No one put that in your room sweetie…I did…" Praxis said, glancing at his daughter through his left eye. Ashelin sighed loudly, and stopped beside Erol. "Father, why did you put in there? I mean, why are you dressed up as Batman?" she asked, feeling those anger management classes go to waste.

"He's not Batman. He's Fatman," Erol interjected, laughing at this. Praxis looked like he was about to explode in rage and shame. "I am not Fatman! I am Fatman!" he screamed, fleeing from the room crying. Ashelin and Erol looked at each other, both holding the same, confused expression.

"Oh, you guys hurry and change. Meet me in the Fat cave after you're done to helpavenge the city," Praxis said, sticking his head through the doorway, obviously forgetting his previous crying fit. He left again, and Erol and Ashelin looked toward their costumes, both lying in a heap on the Baron's bed.

"I guess we should just…play along so the city doesn't suffer any more than it should…I mean, you remember that last time we didn't play along…how the whole city somehow caught on fire when we refused to play "X men"…" Erol said, picking up his skimpy looking Robin costume. So, the two dressed quickly, and wandered through the Palace together, heading for the garage…or what the Baron called the 'Fat Cave'.

"Ah, you made it at last. Fat Girl, Pigeon…I'd like to you to meet Slack Woman," Praxis said, motioning to a new recruit wearing a Cat Woman costume… "Is that Veger?" Ashelin spat, after realizing how thin and tall the other member was.

"Please don't tell anyone about this…" Veger moaned from inside his cat mask. Erol and Ashelin both began to laugh, and very soon the Baron had joined in laughing too. His loud laughs echoed throughout his 'Fat Cave', sending a distant car alarm going off. "Now that that's over, I would like you all to meet my Fat Mobile. See!" Praxis said happily, pointing to a large McDonalds delivery truck parked a few meters away.

"Um…isn't the Bat Mobile meant to be sleek, black and fast…that however is abnormally large and by the looks of it, will struggle to pass 20 km an hour…" Erol said, eying up the huge truck before them. Praxis began to laugh, before flicking his hand again. "This isn't the Bat Mobile…it's the Bat Mobile…err…Fat Mobile," Praxis claimed, averting his eyes from the rest.

Everyone shrugged to show they understood, so Fatman ran to his vehicle, and opened up the doors. He waved at his team to get in too, so the four imitation Batman squad sat all squashed together on the bench seat inside the truck cabin. Unfortunately for Erol, Ashelin and Veger, Praxis would actually be equivalent to two people, so that would mean there'd be five sitting on the bench.

"Ok, let's get rolling!" Fatman (Praxis) screamed, starting up the truck, and flooring the accelerator. The truck began to move like a snail towards the garage door, and halted every few seconds as the Baron changed a gear…from what the other three picked up, was that Praxis had never driven a manual vehicle before…or he had, but failed miserably at it.

"Prepare to die, villains!" he yelled again, as the truck stopped abruptly as he changed a gear. "Sir, maybe let me drive…" Erol suggested, starting to feel light headed at the constant brake happening. "Sidekicks don't drive! Beside, I am Fatman, so I get to drive the Fat Mobile… isn't that right Slack Woman?" Fatman roared, slapping Veger on the shoulder.

And so, Fatman somehow managed to drive the truck out of the Palace Garage and towards the Underground where he knew The Smoker (The Joker) and Torn Freeze (Mr. Freeze) were scheming their evil schemes.

"Sir, I seem to be feeling sick," Erol muttered, clutching his gut as the truck picked up some speed and stopped again. For a Bat Mobile the truck was awfully loud, and the sidekicks all had a feeling that Jinx and Torn would know they were coming from a mile off due to the noise.

"Die you stupid Villain Cat!" Fatman screeched, running over one of his own Hellcat cruisers. Erol and Ashelin cringed, knowing that had been Praxis' vehicle, seeing it had the famous King Throne as the driver seat. He kept laughing, as the other three glanced back to see the red heap of metal lying pathetically on the ground…

"Just wait till I kill you Torn Freeze…I'll teach you to ally with The Smoker…" Yes, the Baron had finally lost the plot…yeah, we decided that basically at the start of the story, but well…urgh…

(At the Underground)

"Checkmate!" Torn said loudly, flicking Jinx's chess piece onto the floor. Jinx growled in anger, and leant down the pick up his castle piece, but never actually managed to reached it…

(Back in Fat Mobile)

"Yo! I'll tell ya what I want! What I really really want!" Praxis has somehow found his favorite song…again…and was now listening to it full bore and singing along, shaking his head like an idiot to the music. The other's stayed silent, as Praxis drove to the underground, enjoying his karaoke with only him as the contestant.

"There it is…there is the base for the evil doings of the evil doers…" Praxis hissed, turning up the truck's headlights to full beam, which shone on the Underground door. "BWA HAHAHAHAHA!" he screamed in laughter, shoving his foot down hard on the accelerator, and the engine roared as it picked up speed…it was a miracle… the truck was currently traveling 25 km an hour…it was a world record.

"DDDIIIIIEEEE!" Fatman carried on, as the door of the underground came dangerously close to the bull bar on the front of the truck. Ashelin, Erol and Veger all covered their ears to block out the Baron's roaring laughs, as well as the screeching metal as the door was slowly ripped off.

(In Underground)

Jinx was reaching for the chess piece, until the door was suddenly torn off… "What the hell is that!" Torn screamed, standing up from his desk and knocking the chessboard to the ground. Jinx turned around to see the open hole in the entrance, and to see the front of the truck forcing it's way into the wall.

"ARRRRGGGGHHHHHH!" they both screamed, clutching each other and backing into the back wall in fear. From the look of Batman's face, both guys knew he would be showing no mercy tonight…

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**Corad: If you thought that was stupid...wait till part 2...and 3. Yeah, there's Fatman for you all...probably can't guess which villain Samos will be...kinda obvious if you like Batman, but yeah...I hope you guys managed to enjoy this chapter. If you wanna know the two guys fate aka The Smoker and Torn Freeze, then it should be up soon. If ppl decide to review, may be up faster so I know ppl are actually reading it, but if not, should be up in a few days. I'll see you all in the next update! Toodles!**


	21. Chronicles of Fatman Part 2

**Corad: Heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh...(Has coughing fit) Ok...I'm glad ppl thought my first part to this was funny lol. I'm so happy you guys enjoyed it! Coz I got many nice reviews, I'm sticking this next bit up now, so I hope you guys will find this one as stupid as the last. **

**Don't Own Jak and Daxter, Blink 182, Chumbawamba or Batman

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**Palace Stories – Probably has been exaggerated**

**Chronicles of Fatman – Part 2**

"See Pigeon, you and your stories…(imitating Erol's nagging voice) The truck is too loud, that costume makes you look ten times fatter, why can't I drive, Torn and Jinx will hear us coming…(back to normal voice) Oh yeah! If they heard us coming, then why are they…crawling…under the…truck…" Praxis looked in awe as Jinx and Torn ran towards them, and got down on their stomachs and crawled beneath the Fat Mobile.

Fatman glanced in his rear view mirror to see Torn stand up behind the truck, and then help Jinx up. They took one last glance at the massive McDonalds truck, before doing a runner and fleeing round the corner.

"Those snakes…think they can escape my wrath…" Fatman growled, reversing the truck slowly, which made that beeping noise reversing trucks make. He turned an angry face to Erol, and then smiled evilly. "Oh Pigeon…time for your first mission…get out!" he shouted, pointing outside. Erol raised an eyebrow behind his Robin Mask, and slowly began to unlock his door.

"Now, you run out there, and corner those two…make sure ya do, coz I'm gonna run them over. The Smoker and Torn Freeze will pay for their evil doings…" Fatman hissed mysteriously, gazing blankly through the windscreen. Erol nodded and hopped out of the truck, adjusting his Robin cape, which for some reason was out to get him. Pulling it away from his neck so it no longer strangled him, he ran off into the dark, after the two idiots who had escaped.

He caught up soon after, seeing Jinx was down on one knee, and struggling to breath. "Dude, maybe that's a sign to quit smoking!" Torn shouted desperately, hearing the engine of the truck in the distance…he heard every sound that truck omitted…the sounds of its roaring engine…the sound it made when Fatman had to reverse…the sound of the horn telling some granny to move out the way…also the sound of the clutch screeching and the engine stalling…yes, he heard every sound.

"If you two idiots want to survive, I suggest you run! He's gonna bulldoze the lot of ya!" Pigeon shouted, running up to Torn and Jinx. Jinx must have forgotten his 'smoker's inability to run for a long period of time' disorder, and sprinted off, closely followed by Torn shouting for him to slow down. Figuring this was the best escape plan, Erol ran after them, in the hopes that the Baron wouldn't find him.

(Back in Fat Mobile)

"These people are no fun…sing me something Slack Woman…" Fatman said, starting up the truck again seeing he somehow stalled it. Veger sat in silence, staring at the Baron. He already felt uncomfortable sitting in this Cat Woman costume, and he didn't want to make it worse by singing.

"Father, it's 12.30 at night…can we please just go home?" Ashelin said, resting her head on Erol's previous truck door. Praxis snorted in laughter. "Of course not…we still have to find Krewface (Clayface), Poison Samos (Poison Ivy), and 3 Face (2 Face). See, we have too many villains to dispose of," Fatman replied, revving the engine up as it began to come alive again. He floored the gas, and continued his Torn And Jinx Killing Spree…or TAJKS for short.

(Somewhere in the Naughty Ottsel)

"So ah Jak…when can I have this old place back?" Yeah, these idiots were also awake… "Look Krew…I told ya already, it's Daxter's place now…besides, who ever said you could move back in?" Jak asked, playing pool with the new pool table that had mysteriously appeared one night. Krew made a sound of defeat, before floating up into the ceiling area and hovering around, his head hanging also in defeat.

"Jak, what are you guys still doing up? Don't you have work tomorrow?" Tess asked, coming into the Naughty Ottsel rubbing her eyes. Jak grunted in reply, and shot the pool cube into a ball.

(Back in Fat Mobile)

"See, some people don't know the meaning of singing…see, let me demonstrate," Fatman said in a posh voice, clearing his throat. Ashelin knew where this was going…she had known it ever since when she was three years old, and her father decided to try out for Haven Idol…

"It's alright! To tell me! What you think! About me! I won't try! To argue! Or hold it! Against you! I know that! You're leaving! You must have! Your reasons! The season! Is calling! Your pictures! Are falling down!" Praxis started shouting, whacking his black glove on the dashboard.

Ashelin and Veger both gave him a strange look, as Fatman continued on. "And it's happened once again! I'll turn to a friend! Someone who understands! Sees through the master plan! But everybody's gone, and I've been here for to long! To face this on my own! Well I guess this is growing up!"

"Father…maybe shut up now…" Ashelin muttered, after her father's bellowing voice had killed her patience. Fatman did as she ordered and fell silent…his gaze dropping to the floor of the truck in shame… "Watch the road!" Veger shouted, after seeing a clan of grannies standing in a group on the footpath. The truck veered off the road and onto the footpath, and well…let's just say those grannies won't be harassing any one else.

"I'm sorry!" Fatman shouted out the truck window, once he knew he was far away from the enraged granny clan. "Father, why are we still out here? We haven't seen Erol or anyone lately…and well…(smack) what was that?…" The cabin fell silent, and Fatman slowed the Fat Mobile down. Ashelin hopped out of the truck, and returned shortly afterwards with what looked like Pigeon.

"Father, I don't wanna nag, but you killed Erol!" she shouted, thrusting Pigeon into the truck and getting in herself, slamming the door. Veger pulled off Pigeon's mask, and he raised an eyebrow. "Sir…it seems Erol has outsmarted us all," he said, looking at the face of Sig.

"Urrrgh, where am I?" Sig asked, sitting up and rubbing his head. He looked down at his body, and saw some crazy costume covering his amour… "What the?" he said, turning to see Fatman, Slack Woman and Fat Girl. "Ok, that's the last time I go to the pub and get drunk off my ass."

"Where's Erol?" Ashelin asked, glaring at Sig who was having a hard time accepting it all. "I dunno…last thing I remember is falling asleep in the gutter…why am I here?" he nervously asked.

"We are going to destroy the city scum. Fatman is angry at his selection of villains, and so he must rid of them SigWing (NightWing)," Praxis said, changing into another gear. Sig glanced around the cabin, and figuring he'd be going nowhere soon, decided to take part in this imitation Batman episode.

(Out in the City somewhere)

"Will you wait up…I seem to find it hard to run and well…yeah…" Erol called, attempting to catch up to Torn and Jinx who decided to hide in the Naughty Ottsel. Torn shouted at Erol to get lost, but Erol just shouted back at Torn twice as loud. "I'm not going to let Fatman get me again, especially since I sacrificed my clothes!" Erol spat, running only in his black boxer shorts.

Jinx and Torn sniggered to each other, but mysteriously found themselves outside the Naughty Ottsel…which made them stop sniggering. "Quick, get in!" Torn shouted, running through the door.

"What are you guys doing here?" Tess asked sleepily, looking from one sweat filled face to another. "Well, Batman appeared, and tried to kill us…so, we kinda ran for it," Jinx said, collapsing in a chair. Torn did the same, and so did Erol. Jak however began laughing at Erol and his misfortune with the clothes, and soon found himself rolling on the floor, unable to breath.

(Back in Fat Mobile)

"I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down! I get knocked down! But I get up again! You're never gonna keep me down!" Praxis roared, doing some form of dance in his driving seat.

"(Beeping) the night away! (Beeping) the night away!" Sig sang, sounding like a girl. Ashelin and Veger rolled their eyes…Veger felt even more uncomfortable now, seeing Praxis was on one side and Sig the other.

So, the four idiots kept driving until they came across the Naughty Ottsel, sitting blissfully unaware beside the Port. Fatman and SigWing began laughing maniacally, as the truck's engine once again roared with power and revenge, heading straight for the door of the bar.

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**Corad: Yes, that was the second part to this idiotic episode. I probably will never be able to watch Batman again and keep a straight face...visions of Praxis in this McDonalds delivery truck will just somehow float back into my mind...and kinda...kill it. But yeah, this was the second bit. There's one last chapter for this short story, and it's way more funnier than the first two. More random insanity in it...but unfortunately Daxter isn't in this story, coz well...we didn't find a villain to match him. We'll just say he went and decided to beat up Pecker or something...sounds like that fuzzy ottsel enough...if you guys want to review, then the next bit will be up sooner, but if you don't wanna review for multiple reasons, then that's fine too. The next bit will be up soon though. So, I'll see you guys later:)**


	22. Chronicles of Fatman Part 3

**Corad: Howdy guys! I got more nice reviews, so I'm gonna put this bit up now. This is the final idiotic chapter for Fatman, but if you guys liked this Fatman episode, maybe we can try and write some more later on using the idea. Thanks to everyone who did review and read this, and thanks too Kitty Kat-chan for suggesting the spiderman theme. It sounds really funny, so we'll have a go at writing something using Spiderman. I can see it now...Praxis pretending to be spiderman. Hehehheheheh, yeah...also, to Ashley, I've written the link and a little bit of stuff about the Sims site for you on our profile page. So, if you're still interested about that, it's just at the bottom of our page ok. Now, on with the next...and final chapter of Fatman...**

**Don't own Jak and Daxter, Batman or R.E.M.****

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Palace Stories – May have been exaggerated

**Chronicles of Fatman – Part 3**

"Oh no…it's that sound…" Torn said, dropping his glass of (insert drink here) to the floor, which smashed into many shards of glass. The whole bar stopped to listen, and the three involved in the Batman chase earlier all gasped, before screaming. "It's back…" Erol whispered fearfully, clutching Jak's arm and cowering. Jak snorted in laughter, until his laughter was met by the front of the truck forcing itself through the front door.

"AAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!" The whole bar had erupted in many ear piercing screams, as Batman's head could be seen over the dashboard of the truck, which had now removed part of the front wall of the bar. "HE'S BACK!" Torn cried, moving into his well-known panic stage (Torn has a well known panic stage?...)

"Oh no he's not!" Tess shouted, pulling a rifle out of nowhere, and shooting it at the truck. Praxis and Sig screamed from inside of it, before the reversing beeps were heard. "Why is Batman after us?" Jinx asked, his voice shaking. "It's not Batman…it's just the Baron dressed up as his newfound super hero. Called himself Fat Man though…don't know why…(shows flashback of Erol calling Praxis Fatman, then Praxis screaming and running out the room) Look, let's all just get outta here!" he shouted over the roaring truck engine and the beeping noise it was making.

"I will kill you all…no one escapes my wrath," Fatman bellowed over a loudspeaker, which he had installed into his Fat Mobile but was only now he decided to use it. "That includes all of you, The Smoker, Torn Freeze, Krewface, Harley Tess, 3 Face and Pigeon!"

Everyone was staring at the truck, as it came once again ramming into the bar. People fled past the truck somehow, and all the 'Villains' began running for their lives towards the Yakow paddocks. Praxis bellowed to them to give up, and followed them, urging his truck to once again travel at 25km an hour.

Veger and Ashelin were wishing they were once again at home, when SigWing and Fatman began cheering at the sight of Vincrow (scarecrow) staggering along the port up ahead. "Die Vincrow!" Fatman screamed, revving up the engine. Vin turned around in time to see the blinding headlights before he no longer existed…in this story…

And so, the truck full of idiots chased the running idiots towards the Haven Forest, before eventually Fatman had to stop the Fat Mobile…he was trying to work out how to get his large vehicle into the forest to destroy his enemies.

(Somewhere in Forest)

"What's that rock? A great danger is about to be untold?" Samos was sitting in the middle of the forest, speaking with his rock friends again. He too was awake at…1 at night, and he too was soon to meet his fate.

"Help us!" Jak screamed at Samos, after the party of idiots had found the green one. Samos looked up at the expecting…and panting group, before rising from his cross-legged, meditating position. "The rocks have warned me that a great danger will soon rock this world. I cannot ignore them, so whatever this is about, make it quick," Samos said, adjusting his crazy glasses.

"Well, we were happily…" Krew began, but the whole forest shook when a huge truck crashed through the walls dividing it from the city. "Dear god…" Erol said slowly, as the headlights were turned on full beam again. He figured Fatman couldn't see where he was going in only half beam lights…

"You…I have found you…Poison Samos…" Praxis growled, turning on a spotlight located on the roof of the truck beside the loudspeaker. The spotlight moved over to Samos, and shone brightly on him. "Jak, what's this about?" he hissed at Jak, who was looking in fear at the McDonalds truck.

Samos never did get an answer; coz the Baron had began shifting gears again and the massive tires started to roll in their direction. "I don't wanna nag, but let's get outta here!" Tess screamed, turning around and running from the Fat Mobile. The other Fatman victims followed in pursuit, until all of them were weaving in and out of trees, trying to get away.

Behind them Praxis was enjoying driving through the forest. He'd never seen so much wildlife in his whole life. "Isn't that a pretty bird?" Fatman said, admiring a brightly colored bird splattered on the windscreen. Veger and Ashelin grunted in return, and Sig whooped loudly. Veger, finding it highly disgusting to stare at a dead bird located right in front of him on the other side of the glass, turned on the windscreen wipers.

"Aww…why'd ya do that for?" Praxis moaned, watching as his bird friend fell to the ground. "It was dead," Veger replied flatly, crossing his arms. Fatman got enraged even more, coz he blamed the bird's death on the villains in front of him. "Eat this!" he screamed, driving straight through the forest (literally).

Trees and rocks were screaming…well, Samos said they were anyway…but what came out of this little adventure was the entire removal the once beautiful forest. Once no tree was left standing, the 'Villains' ran back through the huge hole in the wall and into the city to save themselves.

And so, another 2 hours were spent chasing the innocent victims around. Fatman was beginning to get bored, but he knew the city must be cleared of idiots such as the ones inches from the front of the truck. The victims became so desperate to stay alive, that they took the air train to the wasteland, and found themselves hiding among the rocks outside Spargus city. They had attempted to get into Spargus, but Damas had repeated the same line over and over again "But I didn't order any pizza" until the group of victims gave up and slouched off to hide near the starting line for Kliever's dune buggy race.

They were beginning to think they were safe, until the truck was heard coming over the dunes. Praxis had connected the radio to his loudspeaker somehow, and it was playing that "It's the end of the world" by R.E.M. Yes, it was a sad, sad sight…

"Guys, I think it's time to run…" Jak muttered, leaning around the large rock they were hiding behind to see the Truck coming across the desert. It was like watching those huge road trains…you know, they are like these huge semi trailers driving across the desert to do stuff…yeah, it looked like that.

At this, the party of villains screamed, and made a dash towards the ocean. They knew that if they swam out far enough, Fatman couldn't get them. And so, the group of idiots swam out into the sea, and was about to get eaten by that giant octopus thing when Praxis appeared, his truck heading straight for the water. Everyone screamed in fright, and the Octopus swam for its life, as those massive tires began to drive through the water.

"Die! It's the end of the world as we know it! It's the end of the world as we know it! It's the end of the world as we know it! And I feel fine!" Praxis sang along to the song, until the truck began to slow down, and eventually came to a stop. "Huh?" he asked, looked at Ashelin and Veger expecting some form of explanation from them.

"Father, McDonalds delivery trucks aren't meant to be driven out to sea…" Ashelin said, rolling her eyes as the truck began to sink slowly. This gave the group of Villains a time to escape, and a time for Sig to get on the roof of the truck and sing and dance to the song.

"We need to get out of here!" Veger cried, watching as the ocean level began to rise toward the windscreen of the truck. Fatman fumbled around his belt, and pulled out something. "Ok, I will use my Fat Grapple to save myself!" Fatman yelled, winding down his window and aiming the grapple towards a nearby cliff. He shot the hook from the end at the cliff, and it got caught onto the rocks.

"Ok, time to use my over rated Fat Powers and get out of this mess!" he shouted, hoisting his top half of his body through the window. He pushed the reel in button on his grapple, and began to get pulled out of the window…unfortunately for him, his backside was too large to fit through the window, so the grapple motor overpowered itself trying to pull him out…and it blew up.

"NNNNNOOOOOO! NOT MY FAT GRAPPLE!" Fatman screamed, watching as the rope snapped and the motor erupt in black smoke. He dropped his once faithful grapple to the ground, and pulled himself back into the cabin of the truck, sulking.

"Father, maybe that's a sign to go on a diet," Ashelin suggested, eying her father as he slouched in the seat. It wasn't long until the whole truck had sunk, and the singing and dancing Sig on the roof gone down with it. And that was the end of the Fatman adventure. None of the truck victims were ever seen again…well, they were, but where's the fun in that? But yeah, they were "never" seen again.

(A day later)

"What would you like to order?" a McDonalds check out girl asked, as Praxis stood next to he drive through window. "Well…you know that delivery truck that "mysteriously vanished" two years ago? Well…Can I have a new one?"

The girl raised an eyebrow at the Baron, who stood nervously glancing about outside. "What happened to the last one?" she asked, wondering why the ruler of Haven city was even here. "Um, it met an untimely fate at the bottom of the ocean…so, can I have a new one?"

End…?

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**Corad: It's funny how the innocent wasteland is drawn into these storylines...it'll never be the same again after witnessing the Fatman chronicles...so, was that stupid enough for you? I wrote this with a staight face, but went back to read it and laughed my head off...my personal fav was the Fat Grapple lol. But yeah, that's the end of this stupid Fatman Adventure, but if any of you still want to read some stories where he's imitating Batman, just tell us so we can write some more. Anyway, Bijoux and I both have a chapter about half finished, so who ever is done first will be up first. Well, I'll see you guys later. Toodles for now!**


	23. The Race To End All Races PT1

**Corad: Hey ppls! I'm finally back. Sorry it's taken a while to update this. I've been packed to the max with schoolwork. Seeing it's our end of term three approaching, grade 12s have more exams and assignments to do. Oh well...I just gotta tackle another 8 weeks then I'm free from school. But yeah, I wanna thank all those who reviewed, apart from StaarlaCrapfire. You'd think if she hated the story, she wouldn't read it...oh well, let's just say she's a total moron without a life. Now that's outta my system, thanks to JakMaster for giving us an idea for Jak's egos! We'll see what we can do with that great idea. Thanks to Dax the MetalHead for suggesting the dialogue set out. If I remember I'll be sure to use your advice. Also a big thanks to everyone who have had their screaming spree at the idiot who's currently abusing us all. EyesLikeSilk, Ashley and Some Guy, thanks so much for reviewing too. You've inspired me to keep writing...THANKYOU! Ok, I'll go now on with the story at hand. **

**Don't own Jak and Daxter, but I think I own this plot along with Bijoux.

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Palace Stories – May have been exaggerated**

**The race to end all races…. Part 1 (Think about that title)**

It was a perfect day in Haven city. Birds made screeching noises outside the Palace disturbing the Baron, Torn was finding it hard to herd a bunch of oldies out the underground and Keira was attempting to fix Erol's fallen apart, 50 year old zoomer. Unfortunately for her, it blew up when she touched the thing. So now, she was on the run, a screaming Mad Erol at her heels wielding a spanner on a chain. Yes, today was the most perfect day ever…

"All right you sniveling wimps! Today is 'All obey Praxis' day, and with it, I demand a race. A race to end all races. A race to kill every last one of us…apart from me of course. A race that will…"

"FATHER! Just tell us what you want to tell us, so we can leave!" Ashelin cried dramatically, stamping her foot on the ground impatiently. Praxis stopped speaking and began to twiddle his thumbs. It was as though Ashelin had offended him somehow, but couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Ashelin sweetie, we are not leaving. We are racing. Now, get into your teams, and together we shall race to save the wor….Errrrrr…..pudding in Erol's fridge…" Praxis shouted, before grabbing Erol by the collar and pulling a huge sword out of nowhere. He then began to run….or more like waddle, down the path. Figuring they'd better follow, the rest of the large group walked (yes walked) after Praxis. Soon however, they came face to face with 10 chariots, each connected to two disgruntled looking horses.

"What on earth are these?" Jak snapped, gazing around at the 9 free chariots seeing Praxis had dragged his partner Erol into one. Praxis stood at the front of his black and red chariot, and bellowed out across the group's heads.

"Pick a partner and let's race! First to the port is a rotten egg!" Praxis shouted, before pulling out a whip and whipping Erol with it. Erol yelped in pain, before taking the whip from the Baron and using it to get the slack horses moving. While Praxis happily drove along, a thought had occurred to Ashelin. One simple thought that she couldn't help burst out laughing about.

"My father's the rotten egg!" she shouted, and the others looked at her as if she'd taken some form of happy drug. Yes, it was true. The Baron had in fact stated only moments before that "First to the Port is a rotten egg". Whether or not he realized he had said this, was too late to worry about now. He was most likely already at the port, therefore already the rotten egg.

"Well, we all know your father Ashelin. Maybe he meant last to the port…hey wait, in that case," Jak began, but looked wide eyed at the rest of the people before making a mad dash to Daxter and leaping onto a chariot. He was then seen traveling about 100km an hour (if horses are actually capable of that speed. Err, let's just say these horses are "magical" horses…) in the port direction, screaming of rotten eggs and how he wouldn't be one. This made the others begin to panic at the thought of the insulting name titled to them, so they grabbed any old random beside them and jumped onto a chariot each. So, any passing by citizen would probably have a heart attack at the site of Ashelin and Torn, Samos and Keira, Tess and Sig, Pecker and Onin, Veger and Seem, Damas and Kliever, Kor and Vin and finally Mog and Jinx all roaring past them.

Eventually, after many road rage based gestures and insults, a couple of serious accidents and the death of a chariot tire, the 10 teams were in a straight line across the port path at the very end. During their "leisurely" drive to the port, they had organized the drivers and the killers…err…I mean warriors of their teams. They had also selected their killing instruments for the race: aka Weapons.

"Ok People, we are gonna kick some serious ass today! The loser of race one (whole lot of groans were heard after the word "one") will be kicked outta the race for good. And tomorrow's race will be the same (more groans). So, any questions!" Praxis yelled, his killing instrument (the sword) grasped tightly in his oversized hand. A shaking hand was raised, and Praxis pointed accusingly at Vin.

"What do you want! Can't ya see I'm sleeping!" the Baron spat, shaking his fist angrily now at the cowering Vin.

"Um, how many laps?" Vin asked timidly, fiddling uncontrollably with his can of pepper spray (it's his weapon). Praxis was dumbfounded for a small period of time, which gave the surrounding citizens enough time to flee from the port.

"3….now let's race!" Praxis boomed, raising his sword high in the air. Everyone else prepared themselves, and soon the gun shot was heard signaling the start of a horrible experience for most.

The race was the worst that had ever been seen. Most of the drivers had positioned their chariots beside others and the warrior of the teams was using their specially chosen weapon against other drivers and warriors. Take Jak and Daxter for example. Daxter had gotten his chariot so close to Vin's and Kor's, that Vin was able to use his pepper spray in Jak's face. Becoming helplessly blind for the present time proved a pain in the neck for Jak, and shot randomly around with his Morph gun. Unfortunately for him, he hit Praxis in the backside and so the Baron was making Xena war cries whilst swiping his blade around hoping to hit Jak. Jak had also done another unforgivable crime, and had hit Daxter. So now, the orange ottsel lay in a charcoaled heap on the ground, whilst his chariot had a mind of it's own…or more like the horses had a mind of their own…which they already did but…you get the point.

So, after many pain filled screams and blood flying everywhere, they were on their last lap. The racers were becoming desperate to win, and it appeared that Onin, out of the whole lot, wanted that chocolate pudding prize the most. Yes, she had aimed her machine gun at nearly everyone, and was soon flying down the home stretch, Pecker squawking the whole way in victory even though they hadn't actually passed the finish line yet. However, about 100 meters back down the road; the other 9 teams were still fighting each other, and had somehow recovered from Onin's machine gun of death frenzy.

It wasn't a pretty sight, especially the fateful act from Vin and Kor. If those two hadn't have tried to kill Samos and Keira, Keira would never have thrown her spanner on a chain (courtesy of Erol) at the pepper spray. (Think of this as slow motion) The can in Vin's hand flew from his grip, and hurtled down into the big tire of his chariot. A split second later, the can exploded, and a cloud of pepper spray flew up into the air, surrounding Vin's and Kor's chariot. Kor, unable to see anything (Is this a new thing?) steered blindly off the track and into the hate filled water below.

That was the end of old Geezer Team… 1….After that horrifying display, the last 8 teams went across the finish line, and Praxis crowned Onin and Pecker the winners of round one. He then went on and threatened the old lady that if she ever won again, she'll find herself hanging in a wedgie from the Baron's personal flagpole outside his palace. Kor and Vin never did make it over that finish line. Nor were they ever seen again. Most people say they are in a better place, other's say they swan for their lives to escape their angry chariot's wrath, but some claim they saw them skipping down the road two hours after everyone had left, screaming about visiting Disney Land…so, maybe it's a mystery of where they are now…. (Shows Vin and Kor robbing the Underground, nicking off with Torn's valuables).

End…………………of part one….

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**Corad: So, how did that go down? It's a weird change I know, and I've still gotta finish my rollercoaster chapter. It's almost complete! But yeah, if you fellow readers enjoyed reading about that stupid race, then I'll keep writing chapters for it in between other short stories. If you hated it, and don't want another attempt for let's say, race 2, then tell me and I won't bother continuing on with "The Race To End All Races". But if you still want more of this race, then I'll post up a new chapter for it after maybe, two different chapters. But it's up to you guys! Anyhow, thanks again for the reviews, and I'll attempt to have an update sooner this time. **

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	24. Femaxis

**Bijoux: I smell...why am I here again...? Oh yeah the disclaimer...I don't own the Jak and Daxter, or a number of movies I've ripped off in this piece of trash...I also don't own a thing in here which I got off Sponge Bob SqaurePants...I hope you enjoy it! **

**

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Palace Stories- May Have Been Exaggerated…who am I kidding…it _has_ been exaggerated… **

Palace Stories- May Have Been Exaggerated…who am I kidding…it been exaggerated… 

**Femaxis (Female Praxis)**

"Um…father…why did you drag me here again…?" Ashelin asked as Praxis pointed to his bed, indicating for her to sit down.

"Because sweetie, I have something very important to say…" Praxis declared happily, before randomly belching.

"Errr…that wasn't it…" Praxis sheepishly said as he beamed at Ashelin, who rolled her eyes, for the first time in this story.

"Well, whatever it is can you hurry up? I am on duty you know…" Ashelin sighed with irritation, as she crossed her arms and partly glared at Praxis.

"Okay" Praxis said as he sat down in the center of his bed, causing it to slope in the middle, so Ashelin (who was sitting at the end of the bed) had to grab the post so she didn't slide to her doom, AKA her father.

"Well, I've been thinking lately…ever since your mother left (for **_'"NO"'_** apparent reason, shows Damas sitting in his throne, in Spargus, picking food out his teeth with his staff thing), you haven't been the same…so I've decided to take on the role of not only being your father, but your mother too!" Praxis began beaming at his daughter again, who was still clutching the bedpost for dear life, a scowl played across her face at Praxis' Preposterous Proposal, as it said on the outside of his door, as if advertising a show, a price sign saying 5 bucks 'or else' was also written on the door.

"So what do you say…?" Praxis asked after about 3 minutes of dirty looks coming from Ashelin.

"Well…O…Kay…if you feel you have too…" Ashelin finally said, something about the look her father was giving her forced her to accept, and no it wasn't the look he gave guards, citizens or Veger when he wanted something of them, or when they over took him on the road (fist shaking, roaring like a boar, eyes slit etc…), no, it was the horrid Praxis Pout, formerly known as the Puppy Dog Pout, until Praxis decided he could make a profit out of owning it.

"GOOD!" Praxis cheered as he jumped to his feet, the bed jumping up a bit with him, at the sudden loss of weight.

"Now, I need you to do all that again, so I can film it…" Praxis said as he walked over to a pile of oversized underwear, and began to throw them around the room, as if searching for something.

Praxis soon pulled a camera out of a fairly large pile of underwear, and began his way towards the bed. He stopped about 3 feet away from the bed where he set up the stand for the camera to sit on. He turned it on then went to sit back down again.

Ashelin, who was way ahead of him, grabbed the bedpost again, just as he was sitting down.

"Um why are you filming this anyway…?" Ashelin asked with one eyebrow raised at her father.

"Because, every good movie has a video release! DUH!" Praxis said in a snobbish tone, doing a snob hand flick with it.

"O…K…" Ashelin agreed, not really knowing why her father thought that the newest reason of why he was an idiot was a movie…oh sorry…second newest reason…he is filming that reason after all…

After the 'video' was filmed, Praxis got of his fat backside and went to put the camera away, in another pile of underwear.

"Now, all we have to do is edit it, and then we can release it in October…" Praxis was saying as he put the camera away.

"But…tomorrow's the last day of October…" Ashelin said eyeing her father with confusion.

"DUH! This movie's been in the cinema for 20 minutes now! GET IT RIGHT!" Praxis said, again with the snob tone.

"But…this is your bedroom not the cin--"

"And when the video is released to the public, who couldn't watch it on the big screen, they will all be able to flock to the video store and "_freely_" buy it from the shelf, along with the actors autographs, novelty crp, the sequels and the consol games!" Praxis was saying with a greedy grin across his face.

"But…all you did was film a conversation between us two, that we already had anyway! How can you turn that into a game!" Ashelin spat at her father, again with a confused look.

"Oh don't worry about that sweetie! Naughty Dog'll think of something! And if not we can always give the job to Square Soft!" Praxis declared happily, giving Ashelin a look of, 'I can't believe how much of an idiot you are'.

"Now if you'll excuse me…" Praxis said walking towards the door, dusting his off his hands on the way.

Ashelin ran for the door though and beat him at it, wanting to warn as may people as she could about Praxis' new idiotic plans. She passed three guards once outside; they were counting out their money, and looking at the sign on Praxis' door.

Praxis soon reached the door, slamming it 'open', and crushing one of the guards into the wall whilst doing so (though his door is meant to open the opposite way anyway)…

"THIS SHOW IS OVER!" Praxis screamed at the remaining, yes '_remaining_' two guards. Praxis then slammed the door shut again, as the guards looked at the ground sorrowfully.

Praxis then however opened the door a crack and whispered "Meet me here at 12:30pm today, for a special screening event…"

"It's 12:30pm now though…" A guard said.

"Okay…COME ON IN!" Praxis screamed happily thrusting the door open again, and once again crushing the guard into the wall.

LATER THAT DAY

"Ahh, 12:40 pm…time for some shopping…" Praxis declared as he strolled out his room, 2 terrified guards following him out it before collapsing on the floor screaming about the horror of Praxis' 'movie'.

Praxis had soon reached the mall and was heading towards the women's clothes department.

He had received many horrified looks from shoppers, and scared away half the mall's 'profit', before finally reaching his destination; a dress rack.

"Can I help you Mr. Baron sir…?" a teenaged girl asked as she approached Praxis, with a nervous look. Praxis ignored her and continued to rummage through the unseemly large dresses.

"Um…sir…" The teen once again asked, tapping Praxis on the shoulder. Praxis turned to look at the teen, his eyebrow raised.

"Yes…?" Praxis asked.

"Um…do you need help sir…?" Praxis stared around the room as if looking for some one, at the teen's words.

"SIR!" The teen grew impatient.

"Oh…you mean me?" Praxis said, pointing to his chest, "I thought I already made it clear to this city! Whenever I wear women's underwear, I'm a woman! YEESH! Didn't you buy the video!"

"Video…?"

"YEAH THE VIDEO! Why haven't you bought it yet! DON'T MAKE ME LEND YOU MONEY!" Praxis glared at the girl, his fist shaking threateningly.

The teen stared at Praxis for a while, before running away screaming.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FROM IT FOREVER! THE DVD COMES OUT IN DECEMBER!" Praxis screamed after the teenager.

Sometime later, Praxis had bought a variety of women's wear, including a straw based hat and some sandal based high heals, which looked like they were cutting off the circulation to Praxis' feet. He was wearing a large green dress, with pink flowers on it, and had a red handbag in his left hand. It also appeared that the Baron was wearing makeup and large round earrings. He was even wearing a blonde wig, which he somehow got under the metal parts on his head.

When Praxis had finally got back home to the palace, his feet were turning purple and they looked like Bigfoot's (AKA Brutter's) feet.

(In some parts from now on, _italics _Women's voice

Normal Man's voice)

"_Oh Darling_!" Praxis called into the palace's foyer, he had put on a really annoying women imitated voice, "_I'm home_!"

"Bout time!" Praxis said in his male voice, "Did you buy some KFC!" Praxis had mysteriously changed into his male clothes without going anywhere, as he took a step over and faced where he had just been standing.

"_No…you never asked for any_…" Now he was back in his women clothes, as he went back to his previous stance.

"YES I DID YOU STUPID COW! NOW WHERE'S MY CHICKEN!"

Erol, who was watching the Baron having this strange, repulsive conversation with himself leaned into Veger's personal space and whispered, "It's no surprise she left…" Veger nodded in agreement.

Ashelin had soon come down the elevator to see what all the noise was about. She saw her father ("Mother") in the dress and almost screamed.

"Hide me…" Ashelin hissed towards Erol and Veger.

But before anyone had the chance to hide, Praxis had spotted Ashelin, and was walking towards her.

"_Oh hi sweetie! You remember me right…? Your darling mother_…" Femaxis waved at Ashelin.

"Prrrp…you not a darling…" Praxis spat under his breath, changing back to a man figure. At his words the female version of himself managed to kick him in the shin.

"_Stupid_ _prat_!" Femaxis spat towards where the male Praxis was previously standing.

"Um…I think you should just play along with him Ashelin…" Erol whispered to Ashelin before he started to edge his way towards the door, Veger following closely behind.

"_And where do you think you two are going_?" Femaxis growled towards Erol and Veger.

"Um…out…" Veger replied, Erol nodding in the background.

"_Oh no you're not! Not on your own you're not! Because we're going SHOPPING!_" The room filled with over exaggerated groans and screams at the word shopping.

"But fath---err…I mean "mother", I don't like going shopping…it's sissy and annoys me…" Ashelin protested, as she crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at Femaxis.

"_Oh nonsense sweetie! You're a girl, you love shopping! By_ _default_!" Femaxis said, flicking her/his hand in a snobbish manner.

"But we're guys…we hate shopping…by default…" Erol said, staring at his baron/baroness, with part disgust, part hatred and part fear.

"_Oh don't be silly! My Ashey-Washey's friends have to come on outings…especially her boyfriend…"_ Femaxis chuckled as she/he nudged Erol in the ribs with her elbow.

"But…I'm not her boyfriend…" Erol mumbled, his face a puzzle of confusion.

"_Well…I wasn't talking to you then was I_!" Femaxis said, walking over to Veger, and nudging him in the ribs this time.

Veger too looked confused, but he wasn't prepared for what happened next…

"YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER!" Praxis had appeared and was screaming in Veger's face, spit hurdling everywhere.

Praxis had no sooner changed back into Femaxis and was heading for the door, clutching Veger, Ashelin and Erol's sleeves in 'her' tubby hands.

Once they had all emerged from the Palace, Femaxis led them to a 5 seater, bright pink hellcat. Everyone got into the hellcat, apart from Femaxis, who was now Praxis, who was standing in front of the hellcat with a despair filled face.

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO TO MY HELLCAT WOMAN!" Praxis boomed at the vehicle. Everyone rolled their eyes, realizing that Praxis/Femaxis had repainted Praxis' favored red hellcat, with the throne for a driver's seat, pink.

"_Oh build a bridge and get over it you big lummox_…" Femaxis sighed as she strolled over to the hellcat and jumped into the throne AKA the driver's seat.

"_There's soup on the stove! Heat it up if you get hungry_!" Femaxis called out to where Praxis was formerly pouting, as she started the engine of the hellcat and slowly started to drive away.

Erol looked back at the Palace to see Praxis standing there pouting. This caused Erol to start panicking, but as he swerved his head to look at the seat in front of him, he realized Femaxis was still there driving. He then looked back at the Palace to see Praxis again…though Femaxis was still in the car driving…

Veger who was sitting in the back next to Erol, glared at Femaxis. He too started to panic when he heard a booming voice much like Praxis' back at the Palace entrance…

"OOO! SOUP!" The voice screamed from a distance.

Veger managed to half faint on the spot. He only woke up when they just arrived at the mall.

"Okay! Everyone out!" Femaxis screamed, attracting strange looks from random shoppers.

Everyone climbed out the car and started to make their way to the mall entrance.

"Now, we'll go shopping first, then we'll go see The Perfect Man over there…" Femaxis declared pointing towards a nearby cinema (it's still in the Mall).

5 minutes later, the three victims and '_Bigfoot_', had arrived at the same clothes shop that Praxis had bought the dress from. The Teen that served him last time spotted the 4 of them and almost screamed with fear.

"Oh my God…he's back!" She soon screamed when she realized they were aiming for the store she was in.

"Aww, look how cute this is Ashey!" Femaxis said as she pulled out a pink tank top from a rack and held it up to Ashelin.

"But I don't like cute things…" Ashelin growled as she look away from Femaxis, crossing her arms and taking on a stance which usually read, 'don't even try it'.

"Oh come on! You wanna make your boyfriend happy don't you!" Femaxis said as she made Ashelin hold the shirt as she searched for more clothes.

Up close, Ashelin realized something horrific…the tank top had a large yellow duckling on the front of it…if anyone saw her wearing this; she would be the laughing stock of the whole city.

"OOO! Look at this! Isn't it just so sweet!" Femaxis practically yelled as she pulled a pink, frilly skirt out of the clothes rack and held it up to Ashelin's waist, examining how she would look in it.

Ashelin rolled her eyes as the skirt was soon chucked at her for her to hold.

"And look how cute these are!" Femaxis said as she pulled a pair of pink hot pants out of the rack, these ones had Barbie written on the end of the right leg. The hot pants were soon thrown at Ashelin too.

"And think of how darling you'll look in this!" Femaxis then said, as she held a pink dress, with green flowers on it, in front of Ashelin's face, waving it about as if tauntingly.

4 dresses, 7 t-shirts, 4 tank tops, 9 skirts, 5 hot pants and 2 pants later, everything had been paid for, and Ashelin and Femaxis were standing outside the store looking for where Erol and Veger had gone.

After a long debate, Ashelin had been forced to wear the pink dress, with green flowers, so she looked kinda looked like a 'minni-me' of Femaxis, minus the facial hair and head metal.

"Now where could they be…?" Femaxis asked herself as she gazed around the shop, her hands on her hips. Ashelin's disliking for Erol and Veger had grown a fair bit seeing as though they had dumped her with Femaxis.

Erol and Veger, hadn't dumped her exactly though. They were hiding behind a wall a bit behind Femaxis and Ashelin.

"Maybe we should hire some one to distract them…" Veger suggested as Erol began plotting a route to getting to the game shop, in front of Praxis.

"Nah, then we'd have to pay them…and that means less Jak and Daxter games…" Erol hissed as he looked around the place for a safe route, failing miserably when he discovered that which ever way they went Femaxis would see them and probably hunt them down…

"Yeah, I love those games…everyone seems so familiar on those games…like we've seen them before…" Veger added in a part dreamy tone, as he gazed at the entrance to the game shop. There was a poster on the window saying, 'Jak X now out'.

"Okay…I think I have a plan…" Erol finally said after about 5 minutes of hoping that Femaxis would give up and go elsewhere, she/he however had not moved…and probably never would, until she/he got hungry…

"So what do we do…?" Veger asked as he looked at Femaxis, who was still gazing around the place, she partly resembled something like a patrol tower.

"Well, I'll count to three…and on my mark, we sprint as fast as we can to the game shop…" Erol declared, a heroic crossed between fearful face expression on his face.

"And if she catches us…?" Veger asked.

"Plan B…run faster…"

"What if she still catches us…?"

"I think of a plan when it happens…err…if it happens that is…"

"Okay…"

"Now, ready…? One…Two…THREE!" Erol called out before they both made a run for it towards the game shop.

Femaxis had soon spotted them running past her screaming, and became rather angry.

"OH NO YOU DON'T, YOU scallywags!" Femaxis screamed after the two.

(Show head on picture of Veger and Erol running, can't see Femaxis for she is too far away…)

"Run faster VEGER!" Erol screamed as began to sprint harder.

"I'm TRYING!" Veger screamed back as he began to drop further and further back from Erol.

The two felt like they had been running for ages, the store looked so closer before, but now it seemed miles away…

Veger was really dropping back now, tears streaming down his face as he screamed for mercy from the precursors or the security guards.

Just as Veger was almost out of Erol's sight, a red handbag attached to a long chain came flying out of nowhere. Veger screamed as the bag came flying onto his head, the handle soon coming to be around his neck, before he was thrust-fully pulled backwards on the chain. A loud explosion erupted in the distance when Veger reached what appeared to be Femaxis on the end of the chain. Erol screamed with fear as tears began to form in his eyes now.

The handbag came flying back for round two. It had soon gotten hold of Erol, and he too was pulled backwards screaming, before blowing up.

10 Minutes Later…

"Now, I don't care what you boys think this is! But it's not bush week!" Femaxis was complaining as the 4 of them all made there way to the cinema, "Oh and when we get home, oh, you better believe you're getting a spanking…"

Erol and Veger kept quiet as Femaxis rambled on. Their clothes were torn in places, and they had cuts and bruises all over their somewhat charcoaled black bodies.

"Now, I'll go get the tickets, you boys be gentlemen and go get the food! Remember to get me the extra large popcorn and drink…" Femaxis said as she started to strut towards the ticket counter.

Erol and Veger nodded in understanding before they made their way towards the food counter. They reluctantly did as they were told, not wanting any more harm done to them.

Ashelin just stood in the middle of the cinema, a face of hatred, and a stance of rage, meant that she was angry and would happily kill her father 5 times right now. People who walked past gave her strange looks as they eyed her pink dress, some would even laugh at her, thus receiving a kick or a punch to the face.

After about 5 minutes of waiting, everyone was seated in the cinema, watching previews for movies, much of which the clear majority would have wanted to be in right now.

The words 'feature presentation' had soon come onto the large screen, and number of groans drifted around the cinema. Screams of joy and happiness, as if some one had won the lotto were also heard from one person, who sounded suspiciously like Jak…

"That's the spirit!" Femaxis called out to the person before joining in with the cheering.

"Why did half these people come to this movie just to boo at it…?" Veger whispered towards Erol, who shrugged.

About halfway through the movie, most people had left. Ashelin, Veger and Erol were all slouching in their seats, giving the screen a board looking glare, while Femaxis sat upright in her chair, crying at what she was seeing.

"Love is so beautiful…" she choked as she wiped tears off her face with a tissue, before snaking an arm around Veger and Ashelin and hugging them close to her fat body.

They groaned begrudgingly at this act, though they didn't bother trying to escape the fat man/women's grasp.

"Fath—mother…? Where is the violence in this thing…why aren't I seeing blood splat on the walls…? Where are the spikes on the wheels of that car…? Why doesn't that guy have a Mohawk and guns…?" Ashelin groaned at the screen.

"Oh sweetie," Femaxis chuckled, "This is 'The Perfect Man' not 'The Perfect "_Match_"' Ashelin rolled her eyes at the attempted joke, while Femaxis continued to chuckle.

The movie was soon (thank god) finished, and everyone that was left, began to flood out of the cinema. Ashelin and co. stopped in the foyer, while Femaxis went to the ladies (Note: LADIES) room.

"Ashelin…I think it's time we stopped this idiotic pretending of your father…" Veger said as the three of them waited for Femaxis to come back.

"I know…" Ashelin agreed, as Femaxis emerged in the background.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how many women screamed when I walked in there…yeesh!" Femaxis said as she came right up to her somewhat prey.

"Father…we need to talk…" Ashelin said.

"Oh, you're father's here?" Femaxis asked as she scanned around the cinema foyer.

"Yes, you are…" Ashelin growled, trying to suppress her rage levels.

"I---I don't understand what you're saying…" Femaxis said in a fear resembling tone.

"YOU! JUST QUIT MAKING A FOOL OF YOURSELF AND START DRESSING AND ACTING AND TALKING LIKE A MAN AGAIN! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST BE NORMAL! I HAAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOUUUU!" Ashelin screamed at Femaxis, who burst into tears before running back into the ladies room, where a loud eruption of screams occurred.

The next day…

Praxis had gone back to being a _man_. He had been crying in the cinema toilets for over and hour yesterday, Erol and Veger had even been able to see a male designed movie full of action and killing, and Torn's screams of encore, when someone had their head forcefully blasted off. Praxis was only now getting over the shock and horror of it all.

Ashelin however couldn't be happier that she finally had her way with her father. She was happily walking around the Palace hallways, in the afternoon, when she absentmindedly ran into someone's back.

"Oh sorry…" Ashelin said when she looked up to see a tall, wide figure, dressed in a pink and green dress in front of her.

"Oh that's okay…" the women said as she turned around, revealing herself to be no one other but—

"FATHER! You said you'd throw that dress out and stop acting this way!" Ashelin screamed with anger and betrayal.

"But…I'm not you're father…I'm your mother sweetie…" Femaxis said, "I'm here for the family reunion!"

"WHAT! What is it sweetie! Why did you call me!" Praxis said as he came booming down the hallway. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Femaxis.

"YOU!" he growled at the sight of her, "Femaxis! I thought I already banned you from Haven and forced you to live in Spargus with Damas! Leave our daughter alone!"

"I AM DAMAS!" Femaxis screamed pulling a mask of her face to reveal that she was indeed Damas in disguise.

Ashelin growled before heading towards her room muttering insults under her breath.

END…?

Jak was sitting in a cinema all alone waiting for "The Perfect Match" to come on. He was stuck watching previews. This one however caught his attention the most.

Preview Voice: This October/November, just when you thought your mother was gone for good…your father took over…

Praxis: Ever since your mother left, you haven't been the same……I've decided to take on the role of not only being your father, but your mother too……………

Preview Voice: FEMAXIS…on DVD this December…

(End Preview)

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOTTTT! That looks like the best movie ever!" Jak screamed before he ran out the cinema to get the video, the sequel, the game, novelty crp and the actors autographs.

END…?

1 year later…

"Welcome to the annual Movie Awards!" Some host guy was saying, from atop a stage, in a crowded theater looking place, "Now the winner of this years grand prize…BARON PRAXIS! With his movie, "Femaxis"! Be sure to by the sequels, "Femaxis Returns", "Femaxis Returns Again" and "Femaxis Gets Married, Again!", "Attack of the Femaxis Clones", "My Big Fat Femaxis Wedding", "The Perfect Femaxis", "Femaxis Wars: Episode 1", "A Cinderella Femaxis", "The Femaxis King: Femaxis' Pride", "Return to Femaxis Land", "Femaxistilda", "Freaky Femaxis" and finally "Femaxis Pan"!"

A large screen behind the stage was showing Praxis' Movie, "Femaxis".

Once the movie was done, some guy leaned over to Praxis who was sitting in the crowd wearing a tuxedo.

"Nice preview…" The guy whispered happily to Praxis.

"PREVIEW! THAT WAS THE WHOLE MOVIE!" Praxis boomed, leaving the guy with a confused look on his face.

END…?

Sometime after the awards…

"Ahh, my pretties…Ashelin told me to throw you out…but I will never get rid of yoooouuuu…" Praxis sighed as he looked upon his Femaxis clothes, which were laid on the bed. He soon put the clothes on and stood looking at the mirror.

"I love Femaxis…" Praxis said dreamily.

"I love you Praxis," Femaxis now said, "KISS ME YOU FOOL!"

And so the highly superficial Baron of Haven City, stood there, back turned to us all, pretending that he was making out with some one, when he was really just hugging himself, and making poor sound effects…

REAL END!

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**Bijoux:...ooo...what the heck was I thinking...anyways, please review, and thanks for all reviews and suggestions!**


	25. PraxJou

**Bijoux: I don't own the 'Jak and Daxter' series...which is probably a good thing...  
****Knowing me I probably ripped off some other things in here...so...let's just make this easier and say, I own nothing...except the name Praxjou...and Femaxis...and myconscience...no wait...I sold that on EBay...meh...I got 2 bucks either way...Please enjoy, and thankyou for all your kind reviews...**

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Palace Stories- May have been over exaggerated… **

**PraxJou**

Everyone in Haven was happy. Not because the sun was brightly shinning in the sky, and the birds happily making their soft chirping noises…no…it was because—

"Father…where are you going…?" Ashelin asked as she approached her father, who had his back turned to her and was hunched over his bed.

"I already told you sweetie," Praxis cheerfully said, not bothering to turn to face Ashelin, "I'm going on a Baron workshop, far, far to the north…I won't be back until next week…"

"Oh…how…very…sad…I will…miss you…father…" Ashelin said in the manner of being dazed. She continued to stand in the doorway for a while, before bolting off, screams of joy echoing through the Palace.

"Aww, don't worry sweetie…I left Erol in charge…" Praxis said, at these words Ashelin 'mysteriously' appeared back in her fathers doorway, her mouth hanging wide open as a small assortment of strange little bugs flew down her throat.

"You what…?" Ashelin asked, her shocked face turning into a glare towards Praxis.

"I left Erol in charge…I would leave you in charge, but I think you're too young…5 year olds don't rule cities sweetie!" Praxis chuckled.

"Father…I am way older than 5…" Ashelin hissed, before crossing her arms and starting up a pouting routine.

"Well…um…you won't like your birthday present then…(Shows some form of half made children's swing below the Palace. By the looks of things…Praxis can't read instructions…) And I would've put Vebutt in charge…but I don't trust him…he'll probably go on a murderous rampage through the city and kill half my people…" Praxis chuckled, as he pulled out his whole underwear draw and shoved it in his suitcase.

"But father…you've been going on a rampage, almost everyday since you took the throne…don't you think you should cut Veger some slack I mea---" Ashelin said as she watched her father pick up his big screen TV and somehow fit in the suitcase, along with his bar fridge.

"WHAT, so you want that stiff in charge!" Praxis screamed into Ashelin's face, spit flying everywhere, as he pointed out the door, and straight into Veger's room across the hallway. Veger was sitting on his bed facing the open doorway, his back full on straight, doing nothing.

"Well…I…" Ashelin looked at the ground, with a tinge of shame and fear.

"I bet if you pelted something at him really hard, he would shatter into a million pieces! SEE!" Praxis screamed as he took off a boot and pegged it, with all his might, out the door at Veger.

Ashelin watched in horror, as the boot collided with Veger's face. For a while, he just sat there like it never happened…but soon he had 'shattered', as Praxis had claimed, and was whimpering on the floor crying, he was also screaming things like, "You're even worse than the kids from gym class!" as he clutched his head with fear.

"Father…that was horrible…" Ashelin said, as she stared at Veger, with the slight feeling of guilt.

"Yeah, but it was worth it!" Praxis laughed, as he took his suitcase off the bed, before picking it up and too forcing it into the suitcase.

"See, sweetie, I told you mugging Mary Poppins would be worth it!" Praxis said as he admired his little suitcase, probably full of half the Palace.

Sometime later, Praxis had appeared in Erol's room.

"Erol…everywhere the light touches…" Praxis had his arm around Erol as they looked out the window at the bustling city below, "IS MINE! You are only borrowing it while I am Away…and you better look after it too! Do you know how many people I had to 'shatter' to get you into this job!"

Erol gave the Baron a strange look as he shook his head.

"Well, then good!" The Baron screamed before turning sissy toned, "Cause I made a scrapbook about it…if you turn to page 5, you can see Torn getting a pair of hushpuppies to the gut!" Praxis said as he handed Erol a poorly made book, which was falling apart in numerous places at once.

"NOW EROL! You better agree with Erol becoming the baron of this city while his holiness Praxis, is gone…because if you don't then I'll send Erol to go kill you EROL!" Praxis was screaming, a thong was now clutched in his raised arm ready to throw it at Erol if he disagreed.

"Well…I…" Erol began, he wasn't sure about ruling the city, he did have a life to attend to after all, and didn't have the time to just sit on his butt in a throne, and do nothing, but throw cupcakes at passing guards.

"DOOO IIIIT!" Praxis screamed before pegging the thong at Erol, who partially winced as the thong came flying at him, slapping him in the face before falling to the ground.

"OH MY GOD! Erol help! Erol is invincible to my 'shattering'!" Praxis screamed as he ran out the door, throwing a high heel at Veger on his way.

Veger screamed, as the large pointy heel, went straight into his eye, sticking there as he ran around in circles, screaming for help.

"Oh for god's sake…" Erol muttered, before slamming his door, to block out Veger's screams of help.

And so the Baron got his suitcase and made his way to the exit of the Palace. Ashelin, Erol and Veger (who was now wearing an eye patch over his right eye) came to see him off.

Praxis walked towards his hellcat, he laid his suitcase on the ground and opened it, before hopping into his hellcat and driving it into the suitcase's lid, and with barely any effort, his hellcat was inside his little suitcase. He then picked up the suitcase, easily carrying it to the bus stop.

There was a 3-minute wait as the bus pulled up and opened its doors for Praxis to board it. Loud cheering was coming from the bus. A large banner, which read 'Baron Convention', was on the side of the bus.

"And I thought ours was the only stupid Baron…" Erol said as the bus slowly drove away, Praxis was waving to them from a window.

"Well…better get to my Baron duties…" Erol sighed as he slumped away, back up the Palace stairs, and through the front door.

Ashelin and Veger followed, going their separate ways when they had reached the floor with the throne room in it.

Erol had soon seated himself on the, too big for him, throne. He felt so lonely, being in such a large room all by himself. He was left to think about all the other things he could be doing right now…

He was happily thinking about racing, when another thought intruded his head…food…

"Mmm…food…" Erol absentmindedly said, his voice echoing around the large and dark room.

"Wait…what am I saying…I only just ate 20 minutes ago…but…I…need food…lots of food…now…" Erol was saying in a dazed tone, just as Veger entered the room.

"I got bored so I came to visit and…are you okay…?" Veger asked seeing the look of daze in Erol's eyes.

"Veger…" Erol said in a crazy man tone, as he got off the throne and stumbled down the stairs, "I need food…any food…YOURS!"

Erol was now advancing on Veger, a look and stance of craziness, was overtaking him, overpowering him, over exaggerating him…

"But…I don't have any food…and breakfast was only 23 minutes ago…" Veger whimpered as he backed away from the advancing Erol, who was looking him up and down.

"OH YES YOU DOOO!" Erol screamed, taking his boot off and hurdling it into Veger's face.

Veger screamed as the spike collided with his right eye, under the eye patch. Veger soon fled out the door, probably to the hospital.

"WHAT'S…HAPPENING…TO ME…SOMETHING THAT THRONE DID! I CAN'T CONTROL IT…" Erol gasped hunched slightly over, examining his hands as he flexed his fingers.

"EROL!" Ashelin angrily screamed, as she marched into the throne room, Veger's arm clutched tightly in her hand, "WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO VEGER!" Ashelin screamed as she pulled the crying Veger in front of her, Veger appeared to be holding an ice pack to his right eye.

"Well, sweetie, I think the reasonable explanation here is that I simply, 'shattered' him…" Erol said, his voice all of a sudden becoming a notch deeper than what it usually was.

"What did you call me…?" Ashelin asked with a puzzled face expression.

"I…don't…know…" Erol said, his voice going back to normal.

"Okay…maybe you should go take a break or something…" Ashelin said, still eyeing Erol with confusion.

"Okay…I'll go take…a walk…" Erol said as he stumbled past Ashelin and Veger, and towards the door.

All the way out of the Palace, Erol felt as though some bizarre force was beckoning him to the kitchen…to the fridge, and to Ashelin's birthday cake, which 'Cookey' had spent weeks making, and perfecting.

Before long he had exited the palace and was heading along the port, when McDonalds caught his eye. He had a debate in his head whether he should order some or not, snapping out of it when he remembered that he hated McDonalds, before continuing along the port.

Erol was happily heading in the direction of the industrial section, when something else caught his eye. He strolled up the window of the wig store and peered inside, a large black wig, on a stand was alone in the window.

"Oh my god…a wig made entirely out of Scary Spice's hair…" Erol gasped at the sight, his voice had become that little bit deeper again.

"Wait…what the heck am I doing…? I hate the Spice Girls…I--- NO I LOVE THEM! No I…wait…NEED…MCDONALDS!" Erol screamed before he ran all the way back to McDonalds, where he ordered every unhealthy thing on the menu x4.

And yes, in the time space of half an hour, all the food was devoured, and Erol had indeed put on a copious amount of weight. His gut bulging with fat.

"Ooo…I go home now…" Erol said, his now large like Praxis figure, edging its way to the door.

It was probably a good thing that Ashelin/Veger didn't see Erol when he came home to change to bigger clothes, they probably would've died.

After about 15 minutes of Erol trying to force clothes onto himself, he gave up, and set off to raid Praxis' wardrobe. He had no sooner emerged wearing the whole fix of Praxis' clothes, and had somehow grown a large mustache and a little beard, making him look like the terror of Haven himself.

Erol had the urge to go out again, so he gradually made his way to the exit again. He went along his port rout again, ordering two big Macs fused together from McDonalds.

He eventually stopped at the wig shop again, drooling at the sight of the Scary Spice wig.

"Need…wig…" Erol said as he walked into the shop, demanding the wig from the guy over the counter.

"But its not for sale…" The guy said, this angered Erol.

"OH YES IT IS!" Erol screamed before his pulled a gum boot out of nowhere and pelted in at the man, before he grabbed the wig and ran away, back to the Palace.

About 10 minutes later, Erol had 'mysteriously' appeared in the slums, driving a yellow forklift which he found in the Palace garage. He had also found a Spice Girls CD that was currently playing.

Meanwhile at the Baron Convention…

"First name…?" A man was asking a just checking in, Praxis.

"Errr…Baron…" Praxis replied, shifting his suitcase around.

"Last name…?"

"Errr…Praxis…"

"Okay…we have another one called Baron…you will be called Baron 14…okay…your room is number 2…" The guy said, as Praxis started to make his way towards room 2.

"First name…?" The guy was now asking some one else.

"King…"

"Last name…?"

"Damas…"

"Room 2…"

"First name…?"

"Errr…Baron…"

"Oh for gods sake! HE'S BARON! YOU'RE BARON! _I'M_ BARON! IS THERE ANY OTHER _BARON'S_ THAT I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT!" The check in man screamed, only to be replied with, by about 25 hands rising, down the waiting line.

Praxis happily reached his room pushing it open and gazing inside at the 5 sets of bunk beds. Though the place looked like some form of boot camp, Praxis couldn't be more happier, about his roommates, a bunch of screaming, fat men, with overrated facial hair and metal covering different parts of their heads. Oh and look, one had bought a beer canteen…

"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT!" Praxis screamed, throwing his suitcase across the room, where it broke and went out a window, before he charged at the other Barons, who all screamed and charged back.

When Praxis and another Baron collided, they just lay there with broken bones, laughing at nothing while the others got them some beer and McDonald's from the food corner.

Damas however entered the room with a shock…

"Oh my god…they're multiplying…" Damas muttered with astonishment, as he gazed at the laughing Barons.

Back at Haven…

"EROL!" Ashelin screamed as she chased after the yellow forklift, which was currently playing 'If you wanna be my lover'.

"Yes sweetie…?" Erol asked, turning his head a bit to look at Ashelin.

"What are you doing this for…!" Ashelin screamed at Erol, meaning the destruction that Erol caused to the city, with his forklift antics.

"Well…I thought the city could use a little excitement…and…I'LL KILL YOU JAK!" Erol screamed seeing a figure that looked like Jak standing not to far away. Though the figure was wearing what appeared to be Damas' clothes, it _was_ actually Jak, though a little taller, and a little bigger.

"PRAXROL! STOP THIS IDIOCY AT ONCE!" Jak screamed, he sounded kinda like Damas.

"NEEEEEEEVEEEEEEER!" Erol screamed slamming his foot harder onto the accelerator and driving towards Jak.

"THEN YOU WILL PAY!" Jak screamed, getting his repeat of Damas' staff and throwing it at Erol. The staff flew through the air and smacked Erol in the forehead.

Erol seemed to rock a bit from the force of the blow, but he soon corrected himself and began to glare at Jak, his fist shaking, his eyes slit, as he roared like a boar.

Jak screamed when he realized the staff had done nothing but anger the temporary baron.

"OH YEAH! WELL **_YOU_** WILL PAY FOR THAT! YOU CANNOT WIN!" Erol screamed as he pulled a sneaker out of nowhere and pelted it as hard as he could at Jak, who screamed and tried to make a run for it.

"YOU CAN RUN BUT YOU CAN'T GLIDE!" Erol screamed as he pushed a button on the forklift, which Praxis had labeled eject the load/turbo boost (I think we all know why the forklift would go faster without its Baron…).

And yes, Erol was ejected out of the forklift; breaking through the little bit of ceiling it had above the drivers seat, and was flung towards the running Jak.

Jak screamed as the shadow of the overly exaggerated Erol enclosed over him, the forklift going haywire in the background before it smashed into a wall of the slums. Horrid Spice Girl music still playing in the background.

Meanwhile at the Baron Convention, Praxis was taking his first class, "Manners and rights, when dealing with your people". The classroom was full of about 12 Barons, all listening intently to their teacher, from their little, chair attached to desk seats.

"Now, if a citizen of your city or town…(A baron near the back starts waving his hand around)…or refrigerated space shuttle…(the hand goes down) comes to you looking for sympathy money, what do you do…?" The teacher was asking.

Praxis' hand shot up from the middle of the front row, he waved it around, partly leaning forward, as he made noises of, 'pick me'.

"Yes Baron14…?" The teacher asked, looking down at Praxis.

"I pick em up by their underpants and throw them out the window!" Praxis screamed as if he was at a wrestling match, the room echoed with cheers and 'egging ons' by the other Barons, some of whom, would even lean to Praxis and pat him on the back or shoulder.

"Now, Baron14, how would you feel if someone grabbed by your underpants and threw you out the window…?" The teacher asked in a calm tone.

"I-dun-know…" Praxis said as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well how bout we see…?" The teacher asked, walking behind Praxis' chair, where he tried to pick Praxis up by the undies. He tried ever so hard to pick him up, but only managed to rip Praxis' underwear completely off.

Praxis just sat there with a bored expression gazing at the blackboard, thinking about food, as the teacher struggled to bring harm to him, and as the other Barons cheered. Once the underwear had been ripped off, the teacher screamed, accidentally throwing the underwear into the ceiling fan above, where they rotated a couple of times before flying out the window, and towards the road, where a female driver got them caught on her head. She screamed as she swerved around on the road, before collecting another zoomer and smashing into a nearby tree. The classroom erupted with more cheers, this time Praxis joined in.

Just then the bell for them to go to another class rang. They all got up and made a move to the door.

"Um…class we will be wanting those back…" The teacher said as all the Baron's looked down to see their desks were stuck around their fat waists. They all made simultaneous, synchronized noises of embarrassment before forcing themselves out the desks and walking out the door, leaving the classroom to look like a baron _bomb_ hit it.

Meanwhile back in Haven City, Ashelin had captured Erol and had forced him to take an exercise run with the other cast, so he could lose some weight. Erol however had cheated, and was chucking a Praxis, by driving a red cherry picker there, destroying anyone he could to get to the end first.

He had catapulted just about everyone backwards with the cherry picker. Everyone but Damak…

"You sure run fast for someone who has 2 of their legs broken!" Erol thundered at Jak, who was riding in a wheelchair, a women who appeared to be a nurse was pushing the wheel chair, screaming as the cheery picker tried to scoop her up.

The nurse screamed even louder when Erol succeeded in scooping her up with the picker and catapulted her backwards. A loud explosion occurred when she collided with a building in the background.

Jak screamed as he tried to use his broken arms to move the wheelchair.

"Why can't you just leave me alone!" Jak screamed, as he looked at the gaining on him, cherry picker.

"Hey…that's a good question…" Erol said as he stopped the vehicle and got out, slowly walking towards Jak and his wheelchair. He began to push Jak towards McDonalds.

"NOTHING MAKES SENSE ANYMORE!" Vin screamed as he watched the two worst enemies disappear into the distance, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIIIIIIIEE!"

"How much do you reckon he'd sell on EBay…?" Torn was asking Sig not to far away.

"Err…five bucks…?" Sig replied looking at Vin.

"Well…that's at least enough to buy some more Yu-Gi-Oh cards…" Torn said as he looked from Sig to the now screaming Vin.

"AWESOME!" Sig screamed as he high fived Torn, before they both headed towards Vin, who was accusing the sky of falling, and stealing his cat, Snookums, who 'ran away' (cough-Krewateher-cough) yesterday.

Vin screamed louder when he was captured and dragged kicking and screaming back to the underground.

Meanwhile Ashelin had once again captured Erol and had forced him back into the Palace, where he had been told that Samos was going to hypnotize him into de-Praxerising.

"Okay Samos, let's see what you can do…" Ashelin watching in desperation as Samos prepared his hypnotizing equipment, AKA a rock tied to a piece of sting.

"Okay," Samos said as he walked up to Erol and started swinging the rock in front of his face, "You are getting sleepy…you are getting sleepy…your eyelids are drooping…you are getting very sleepy…you are getting something that can only be defined as _sleepy_…" Samos said, as Erol began to fall asleep. In almost no time at all, Erol was loudly snoring, something he barely did before he turned into PraxJou…

"When I click my fingers, you will wake up…and no longer be Baron Praxis' long lost twin brother…" Samos then clicked his fingers and Erol awoke.

"How do you feel…?" Ashelin asked, leaning in to Erol, expectantly.

"OOOOH, I feel lovely!" Ashelin and Samos almost died…the only thing that changed was Erol's voice…he now sounded like Femaxis…

"WHAT! NOOO! My hypnotizing never fails a job!" Samos screamed.

"Wait…you said…no longer his long lost twin brother…maybe he thinks he's his long lost twin sister now…" Ashelin suggested. Samos had a look of agreement on his face, but before he had time to try again, Erol had jumped up and was running away, screaming that he could hear and smell a BBQ outside.

"I don't smell anything…" Samos said after sniffing the air.

"I…that would be another default thing from my _parents_…" Ashelin said with a shame filled voice.

"Oh…right…" Samos said before be started levitating away towards where Erol had just gone.

But Erol was right…a BBQ was happening somewhere…somewhere a bit beyond the Palace in the canal area.

"This barbeque is awesome chilly pepper!" Sig boomed at Torn, who was flipping burgers on the barbeque.

"Don't you know it…?" Torn said in a full of self-tone.

"I can't wait till we get the sausages on there!" Sig cheered at the BBQ (Yes people I'm lazy).

But before anyone had time to put sausages _anywhere_, a large blur of green and pink flew past the BBQ, knocking Torn and Sig over the railing and into the water of the canals.

"HEY! They're our burgers!" Torn screamed at Erol who was now dressed as Femaxis, and was eating all the food on the BBQ though not all of it was cooked properly. Once all the food was devoured, Erol ran away back to the Palace.

Meanwhile back at the Baron Convention, Damas was losing it. Everywhere he would go, he saw a Praxis, everywhere he didn't go he saw a Praxis…it was horrible…what made it worse was that the convention owners miscalculated numbers, and had to get another bed, which they put on top of his already a bunk bed, bed. And so now he had a Praxis above him and a Praxis below him…he was losing it more and more every time they cheered…every time they snored in a synchronized manner…every time they belched then cheered…he needed a rescue…any rescue…KLEIVER!

"Kleiver…?" Damas said into his communicator late one afternoon, "Kleiver get me out of here…I beg you…I can't stand it…he's multiplying…" Damas squeaked.

"Yeah, yeah I'm coming…" Kleiver said through his communicator, "In fact I'm in the ramrod right now…"

"Really…?" Damas whimpered hopefully.

"Yep, sure am…" Kleiver said as he changed the channel and took another sip of his beer, slouching more into the couch in doing so.

"You're the best Kleiver…" Damas said, he sounded close to tears.

"Yeah, yeah…now rack off so I can finish watching this episode of the Winx Club…" Kleiver spat into the communicator.

"Winx Club…? But Kleiver…I thought you said you were in the ramrod…" Damas said with confusion.

"Oh…I am…but that doesn't mean I'm going anywhere does it now…?" Kleiver partly laughed.

"But Klei--" Damas was soon cut off when Kleiver turned his communicator off.

"Bloody wanker…" Kleiver growled before going back to watching TV, from atop his ramrod.

Back at Haven things had gotten worse…Samos had tried to hypnotize Erol again, though he failed and just returned him into Praxis.

Erol was now going on a rampage, and guards were chasing him, in a desperate attempt to make him normal again. It was horrible. Guards kept saying they missed the old Baron, though he was no different to this one.

Jak had somehow fixed all his bones, and too, was going on a rampage. Everywhere you looked you saw destruction…

Just like everywhere Damas looked, he saw a Praxis remake…that was until…

"OUTTA MY WAY FATTIES!" Kleiver screamed as the ramrod came crashing though the wall of a classroom, which Damas was in. Damas screamed for joy and ran for the ramrod, jumping in and hugging Kleiver when there.

"Let's blow this pop stand!" Kleiver said before revving the engine of the ramrod, blowing wheel dust all over the place and into peoples eyes.

Kleiver broke through numerous walls, ran over numerous people, and drag raced numerous other vehicles in the attempt to get back to Spargus.

By the time he had left, the convention was so damaged it had to be closed down early, and it wasn't long before all the Baron's had gone to their, or what was left of their rooms, to pack their stuff.

The busses had soon arrived to pick them up and take them home.

Praxis sat on his window seat and looked at the ruins of his once favorite place in the world. He remembered all the things he had learned, he learned to be a better Baron, and couldn't wait to show the citizens of Haven his new found respect and manners towards them. He was a better Baron thanks to the Baron Convention.

When the bus finally pulled up at Praxis' Palace, everyone that was left on the bus said they would miss him most, and that they would never tape over his belching album that he gave to everyone for free. Praxis waved goodbye to them all as the bus pulled away.

Praxis walked up the cement steps to his Palace and waited for the doors to open.

He would however soon see a sight that he thought he'd never see out of his dreams. Erol and Jak and high jacked two bumper cars, and were driving them around the Palace foyer screaming at each other.

"You will never again defile the purity of the arena!" Jak screamed at Erol just as Praxis walked through the door.

"THE BARON IS BACK IN THE HOUSE!" Praxis called through the foyer, and almost instinctively Erol's fat, facial hair, idiotic attitude towards everything and everyone, his deep voice and his craving for food vanished. Yes…he wasn't the Baron anymore…he was just some naked guy running towards the elevator to get some clothes which fit him again…

And you know…it was like the baron never left…(zooms out to show half the city on fire)…

And Jak…well…Jak sat there laughing at Erol for at least 5 minutes, before starting up another 'arena' duel with Praxis…

Vin was see never again…Onin sends him to go get her grocery shopping from a store which is only open at night, ever since she got him for five bucks, which she stole from Peckers piggy bank.

Damas cries himself to sleep at night, while Praxis filled nightmare haunt his dreams, so people reckon Kleiver should stop playing that Praxis Belching Album at 2 in the morning…

Torn and Sig drifted through the canals forever, until they were rescued by the justice league, who also helped Veger get rid of his blind eye disease…

The hospital nun is now dead, though she is believed to have married the Baron with the space shuttle, and has now turned into Arnold Schwarzenegger. She was never seen again, though she now rubs Praxis feet if and when he commands, even though she is declared dead, buried and missing, in several different states.

Praxis sits at the mailbox every year waiting for an invite to the Baron Convention…though it never comes…Some people say it's because it's still a pile of rubble right next to the Palace (yes it was there all along—remember Praxis: "I'm going on a Baron workshop, **far, far** to the north…I won't be back until next week…" See how wrong he was…?), other people of the city say it's because, all the teachers of the convention hated Praxis the most, so he wasn't aloud back…but the smart ones say, it's because he's waiting at the wrong letter box…and Ashelin doesn't want a repeat of last time…and some more smart ones even say, it hasn't come back because Praxis owns the damn thing anyway…Yeesh…how stupid could a whole city get…? How stupid could **_I_** get…?

THE END 

Next week…

Ashelin was bored so she went for one of her Palace walks. She got tired halfway though and had to sit down…

"Mmmmmmmmmmm…foooooooood…(drools)…"

Wrong place to sit, that throne…it should be bloody burnt, with the entire ruckus it causes…

(Daxter: It's a curse…isn't it…?)

END…OR ELSE

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Bijoux: O...k...Well, I think I get worse everytime I write one of these things...  
Okay, I also drew this really dumb picture, though it's still crud, and may need a bit more work to it, it is my best drawing ever, so if anyone wants a copy, leave you email behind in a review and I'll send it when I get the chance to. It's way too exagerated, and makes fun of the Baron...so yeah...please review... 


	26. I'm Dreaming of a Fatty Christmas

**Bijoux: Finally completed your _praised _Christmas special _Some Dude_! Hope you and everyone else who reads this enjoys it too... um...yeah...just a warning, the end of this story will kinda turn into a cheap version of a songfic...so um...yeah...ignore my pitiful attempts...  
**

**I don't own Christmas...Santa Clause...the grinch, Jak and Daxter...or Walking on Air, by someone I don't know...or the Snow Man movie...and Corad owns the story, "Cry of the Wolf"...but don't read it coz my stories are better and...(Corad: (gives Bijoux death glare)...die...)...um...yeah...after the story I will...**

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**Palace Stories – In our opinion, Praxis would _literally_ crush Christmas 15 times before the Grinch even looked at his calendar…

**I'm Dreaming of a Fatty Christmas…**

Ah Christmas, the time of giving, the time of decorating, the time that Baron Praxis dreamed of most…

Praxis was currently alone in the palace lounge room, decorating the large tree.

"Ah, my precious Christmas tree, nothing will ever take you away from me…" Praxis muttered as he turned from the tree and bent down to reach into a box of decorations. Little did he know, his 'daughter' would knock the tree out the large open window behind it.

And yes, it was all becoming reality as Praxis' fat Baron ass knocked the tree backwards and out the window.

Praxis turned again, holding a line of tinsel in his hands. He screamed as he saw no tree, quickly darting towards the open window, where he saw the tree, slowly becoming more out of reach, before it landed with a thud on Santa's head down below the Palace.

Their was an uproar of child like screams from below, and Praxis knew that he was now a fugitive, he would have to flee from his own Baron now…or Praxis would surely kill him…

"Oh no…Erol and Ashelin just went to all the trouble to hire Santa to ask the children what they wanted for Christmas outside _my_ palace…and now he's dead…and it's all my daughter's fault! SHAME ON YOU!" Praxis screamed as he backed away from the window, and curved his butt out so he could see it clearly enough.

"Aww…how could I stay mad at you…?" Praxis soon said, deciding that the enclosed flab range had learnt it's lesson, though it had no brain…or did it…with all the metal on his head, his brain may have had to be relocated to a place with all the same protection…flab was probably next best thing, not that their was much of a brain _to_ save…

Praxis soon began panicking, realizing that the only way to redeem himself to his lordship Baron Praxis, was to become Santa…

And so, he left the palace, casually walking up to the horrid splat filled Santa mess, and the horrid face expressions of children, almost in tears as they clung to each other, their parents, or their automatic pork grinders.

"It's alright everyone…I'm assessing the damage report…and yes I may make it worse…but have no fear, because he's already dead anyway…I couldn't possibly make it any wor—(splat)…uh-oh…" Praxis mumbled as he looked down to see that he had stood on Santa's face, causing what appeared to be a chipped tooth and a nosebleed.

Now, Praxis being the utter moron that he was, didn't even think that maybe the groan of protest meant that Santa wasn't dead, nor did he ever come to the conclusion that this Santa wasn't even the real one, on the count of his beard pulled off easily, and had straps to it. But no, Praxis was too dumb to realize that Erol and Ashelin had hired a fake for the job, that he had specifically requested the real Santa do.

And so, after about 5 more minutes of screaming coming from the children that seemed to refuse to move, Praxis had robbed 'Santa' of his uniform and beard. He folded the costume up and went back inside the Palace.

Just when the children thought that the torment was over, Praxis shoved his head through the door again, threatening the children to get off his 'lawn' before he called the guard then set the hose on them, soaking their red uniforms, and zapping guns.

And as Praxis walked towards the elevator a thought hit him…children didn't even exist in Haven city anymore…meh…this story is exaggerated anyway…nobody's that fat! (Points to Corad in distance…not that she looks too far away…geez, let go of the chips Fatman…let go of the _chips_!).

Praxis went on a raiding spree to find Erol, Ashelin and Veger. He soon found them, confabing (conversing) about how stupid some guy named Praxis was, and that he was only gonna get worse, the fatter he seemed to get.

"Oh…um…hi father…we were…just talking about you…" Ashelin sweat-dropped as her father approached them, a partly guilty look played on his face as he looked around the room to make sure no one unwanted was listening in on them. He counted 10 guards, but really couldn't stuffed moving them, so out came the remote control bulldozer, pushing them out the hallway, though they didn't struggle, and barely even noticed that they were moving away from their posts anyway.

After the bulldozer had carried the guards far, far to the north…wait! Get outta here old geezer bomb! (Hurls brick towards Samos, Samos levitates away screaming like a little girl).

Anyways, after the bulldozer had carried the guards far, far to the north, they soon were being 'meddled' with by Gol…how…for some reason is still alive and well…(coughs)…um yeah…Praxis turned to the others, the guilty look still plastered on his face.

"Are you okay…?" Ashelin asked as she frowned at Praxis who shook his head before leaning in closer.

"I…killed…Santee Clause…" Praxis whimpered. Ashelin and Erol immediately exchanged nervous glances towards each other.

"Okay…and how did you do that…?" Veger asked, getting the impression from Erol and Ashelin that Praxis had not actually obliterated the real Santa.

"Well…my daughter knocked the tree out the window…but coz she's so attached to me, it was kinda my fault too…but anyways, the tree hit Santee Clause and his splattered all over the pavement…" Praxis explained to the others.

"But sir…that wasn't--" Erol was cut off when Praxis began again, this time sounding more stern and heroic.

"But I do have a plan…I will redeem myself by becoming Santa Clause, and just to prove that I will not have any favoritism, I will personally strangle the Easter Bunny, and it will be death by vacuum cleaner for the Tooth Fairy…" Praxis declared heroically, "Now, you two will be my elves…while you Veger, get to be Mrs. Clause…"

Everyone, especially Veger, looked shocked at their new 'jobs', as Praxis turned on his fat heel and disappeared down the hall and around a corner.

As Erol and Ashelin were now officially declared as elves, they decided that their job was to get the presents, though they did it rather reluctantly just as they had when they were sent to get Santa Clause.

The two had decided that they couldn't just force Santa to come help the Baron with his popularity contest, so they hired some fat guy off the street and bought him a costume to wear, along with a sack of candy to give the children, as a treat of Christmas spirit.

They weren't sure to feel relieved or scared right now, as the real Santa was still alive and well, but now the citizens of the city would have to suffer the mere consequences of Praxis' ass being far too fat for comfort…

Veger was left alone in the hallway after that, not really knowing what the heck Mrs. Clause was supposed to even do. He decided that he's just go live life as normal, before Praxis declared that he needed '_Mrs. Clause's_' help.

Time soon passed, and it was no sooner Christmas eve. It was about 5:30pm, and Praxis was getting his sleigh ready for take off.

"Now let's see, we have Dasher, Dancer, Prancer," Praxis said as he ticked off the names of his 'reindeer' as he walked along the line guards on cruisers, wearing fake reindeer antlers, "Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen…and Ru-wait…WHERE'S RUDOLPH!" Praxis roared, realizing that there was no red nose in this crowd of guards.

"Um…I'm right here sir…" a guard next to Praxis said, as he waved his arm a bit, to get his Baron's attention.

"No you're not! Where's the red nose!" Praxis boomed angrily as spit flew from his mouth and covered the guard slightly.

The guard's uniform now glinted in the sunlight, as his face turned to a pout.

"But sir…I can't help that…" The guard mumbled sadly as he looked at the ground with shame, and tears on his face.

"Well luckily, we can fix that…MRS. CLAUSE! Get my red lipstick!" Praxis boomed.

Veger soon appeared next to Praxis, he handed him the small canister of lipstick.

"Thank you wife…" Praxis said plainly as he dismissed Veger.

'Rudolph' looked at Praxis expectantly as he took the lid of the stick, and began to ascend the small red cylinder.

"Now, time to do something I should've thought about a long time ago…" Praxis gruffly said before he ascended his fist and punched the guard square in the nose, causing his nose to turn painfully red.

The guard ran round clutching his face, while his fellows tried to help calm him. Praxis stood somewhat in the background, while applied his lipstick, soon becoming satisfied with the work before he waddled over to 'Cupid' and kiss his cheek, stating that it would give affect.

'Cupid' resisted the urge to spew as he tried to look at the damage on his left cheek, but failed miserably.

Ashelin and Erol soon appeared on the roof and were loading a large sack of presents into the back of Praxis hellcat. Praxis was adjusting a set of harnesses that had been placed on the guards, and connected onto his hellcat.

The time was now 7pm. As expected, 'Rudolph' had calmed down and was massaging his nose, trying to make it better, though it was probably broken, and still remained bright red.

The other 'reindeer' were living up to the song, and were making fun of their red nosed companion. 'Cupid', however, was also receiving quit a beating, as he was not allowed to wipe the kiss mark off of his cheek. He could only pout while the others ridiculed him.

Half and hour passed, and it was now that they had to sit and wait until it reached 10 to 12. It was a daunting task, with no bathroom breaks, unless you were Praxis of course. Erol and Ashelin had been forced to see Praxis off, though they really did not want to.

The hours had finally passed, and it was time to 'set sail' as Praxis liked to call it. So off they flew, Erol, Ashelin and Veger regrettably waving at the disappearing Baron in a hellcat, attached to 9 reluctant guards on cruisers.

They stopped at the first house, and Praxis looked at the list he had constructed before departure. The first name was, Timmy, yes Timmy, how Praxis hated him…but still he was Santa, and Timmy had been a good boy to the other citizens. So Praxis sadly forced himself to give up his revenge plotting, and forcefully pushed himself down the entrance of the chimney, partly getting stuck and complaining of heart failure half way there.

Alas Praxis managed to reach the bottom, and hurled 2 presents under the tree, before he got a plate of cookies off the mantle, careful to make any sound, as he ate them rather piggishly. He then reached for the milk; he scoffed before pulling out a bottle of brandy, and whirled a bit of it into the white liquid, before he gulped it down in one go.

"Now, time for a quiet exit…" Praxis whispered as he put the glass back on the mantle next to the empty plate of cookies. Just as Praxis stuck his head into the chimney, he let loose, what could've possibly been the loudest belch in the history of eva…

It rumbled and echoed up the chimney, surely waking up the citizens of the household of _Timmy_.

"Ooops…" Praxis mumbled before he quickly scurried back up the chimney, hopping back into his hellcat once he had reached the surface.

It was soon an hour later, and the 'sled' had reached the Underground. Praxis glared before him.

"Boys, drop the load…" Praxis hissed as a compartment opened below his hellcat, unleashing a rather large and uncalled for pile of coal onto the underground roof. The coal broke through the roof and managed to destroy half the Underground, while Praxis disappeared into the distance.

Praxis gazed at his list as he neared the next house, he was now up to a girl named Samantha. Little did he know that he wouldn't reach Samantha's house without a fight.

"Baron Praxis! You naughty little boy! Pull over right this instance!" A voice called out as a whip collided with Praxis' face.

"HEY!" Praxis hissed as he rubbed his left cheek. He looked across from him and saw him…yes HIM…The Santee Clause…

"Not on your life old man! This is my job now!" Praxis roared back, ushering the guards on by raising and lowering the reins with a fast speed.

"Oh yeah!" Santa Clause screamed back as his sled came in close range of Praxis' hellcat, scraping the side of it a bit.

Praxis yelped with fear, panic seeping into his expression as he tried to usher the guards faster still.

"Back of you old fart! This house is mine!" Praxis roared as he jumped off the side of his hellcat while it was in mid air. Praxis screamed as he clung to the present in his hands.

He landed smack bang into the chimney, however, he managed to get full of stuck, and was incapable of breaking free, until the fire brigade was called in to help.

Santa was gone by the time they arrived, probably fixing any damage and finishing the rest of the houses before the sun rose high into the air.

And so, Praxis was free within about 4 hours, and he was sent to bed for the remainder of the early morning hours. He awoke at about 10:30 and clambered out of bed, and to the lounge room where Ashelin, Erol and Veger were all seated around the tree, opening presents.

Praxis seated his fat arse on the ground…yes his ass had been the cause of all this, and quite frankly, he was hating it right now, but he decided that it got it's punishment, by having to bear the rim of the chimney he got severely stuck in. It was just those extra 300 cookies that did it really.

"Merry Christmas father…" Ashelin said as she pushed a present towards Praxis. Praxis took the present willingly and began to tear the wrapping away.

"Yay! You got me a 'My Little Pony!" Praxis happily cheered as he cuddled the small pony to his face.

"These are from us two…" Erol said as he pushed two presents towards Praxis, one from him, the other from Veger.

Praxis opened these, to find a beer brewing kit, and a cheeseburger brewing kit. Erol, Ashelin and Veger all received lawn mowers from Praxis, and other presents from Santa- the real Santa.

Praxis sulked, knowing very well that he did not get a present from Santee Clause.

"There's one here for you father…" Ashelin said as she handed a Praxis a small present, with a note attached.

The note read:

_Dear Baron Praxis, _

_You are a very bad boy and thus are receiving coal, this is because in the time span of 1 and a bit days you almost killed someone, broke someone else's nose, forcefully removed 10 innocent people from a room, kissed an innocent person and probably poisoned them, destroyed the underground when they did nothing naughty, broke someone's chimney, sprayed toxic vehicle gas all over the city, woke up a whole family of 3 with a large, uncalled for belch, called me, Saint Nick, names, disobeyed my orders, and completely wasted the fire brigade's time. Not to mention all those rampages you have caused throughout this year…and quite frankly, I'm blaming you for Bijoux's utter stupidity, and inability to leave innocent authors alone… _

_Thank you for at least trying, though you gave boys girls' presents, and gave girls men's underwear…for some strange reason or another…_

_From the now un-jolly Saint Nick. _

Praxis finished reading the letter and gazed down at the present. He took the wrapping paper away to see the sight of a large chunk of coal.

This angered Praxis…and yes…it started…a rampage…(horror music starts up in background).

"Oh yeah! Well coal isn't so bad!" Praxis screamed as he got the coal and threw it into the fireplace nearby. He then used the fire tongs to get the coal out; he then used it to fuse the three mowers he had bought, together.

"I'LL SHOW YOU NAUGHTY OLD MAN!" Praxis spat as he jumped on the mower, mechanical mess he had created, and drove away from the lounge room, and soon out the Palace.

Torn was heading over to the Naughty Ottsel, to spend Christmas there, after the Underground had been mysteriously destroyed during the night. Little did the tattooed man know, that this Christmas was about to get worse…

"DIE GRINCH!" Torn heard Praxis scream, Torn looked behind him to see Praxis chasing after him on some form of ultra mower.

Torn screamed when he realized that he was being called the grinch.

He began to run as Praxis chased after him.

"What is you problem man! You're tryin to kill me, even on Christmas you lunatic!" Torn screamed with part anger, part fear as he ran for his life.

"Merry Christmas Torn!" Jak called as Torn ran past, "Merry Christmas Praxis!"

"Shuddup Jak!" Torn screamed back, angrily.

"Merry Christmas Jak!" Praxis yelled back happily and enthusiastically, as he waved behind him.

Jak waved back, not really caring that out of the two Haven city Grinches, his friend was the Grinchyer one…

And so the rampage raved on. Praxis was still screaming out insults, as Torn ran for his life, trying to convince Praxis that rampaging on Christmas would not help his publicity at all.

"SHUT UP GRINCHY GRINCH! I know what you're planning! You're planning on ruining Christmas for everyone! Especially Torn! You'll dress up as Santee Clause, give everyone bogus presents! Call the real Santee Clause names! Get coal for a present! THEN GO ON A RAMPAGE AFTER TORN, TORN! YOU'LL ACCUSE HIM OF BEING THE GRINCH WHO STOLE CHRISTMAS, WHEN YOU STOLE CHRISTMAS!" Praxis aggressively screamed in front of him, as he shook his fat fist threateningly at the tattooed wonder.

"Shut up ya fat moron!" Torn screamed back as he glared over his shoulder at the fat Grinch of Christmas.

Yes it was a horrid site to behold for the citizens of Haven City…but then…then something…miraculous happened…yes…it was a miracle, as the mower Praxis was riding just…mysteriously took flight, and began to float towards the high sky above.

"Wow…it's a miracle…" Daxter quoted as he appeared next to Torn who was standing in the middle of the street, speechless.

"DIE TORN! DIE!" Praxis screamed as he levitated further away. It would seem that the incredibly fat man had no idea that he was floating away, and thought that he was still on the ground, chasing Torn.

Just then, a song started up in the background…yes…it was that song from Raymond Briggs' "The Snowman" movie…except Bijoux (the ignorant pig) had screwed up some of the words to better match the moment…

_We're driving in the air_

_We're floating in the fat filled sky_

_The people far below are cheering as we fly_

Praxis floated higher, as he finally realized he was in the sky, not the road below, the people were apparently cheering as their Christmas was saved…

_I'm holding very tight_

_I'm riding in the mower- red_

_I'm finding I can fly so high above with you_

Praxis clutched the steering wheel and hunched himself over the mower further, he was now singing the song (in the same tone as the little boy mind you), because Bijoux was so budget, and could only afford the real singer, to sing one verse of the song…sorry guys…(looks at ground shamefully)…

_Far across the world_

_The villages go by like trees_

_The rivers and the hills_

_The forest and the streams_

Praxis looked fearfully down at the scenario below him. He went across Spargus and Kleiver gave him thumbs up for some reason. He then passed over Haven forest, and the wasteland. Sharok, Skytha, Simron and the wolves from Cry of the Wolf, were all hanging around in the desert. They all saw a large, round shadow pass over them, and collapsed on their knees screaming for mercy, when they realized it was Praxis' shadow.

_Idiots gaze open mouth_

_Taken by surprise_

_Nobody down below believes their eyes_

Praxis passed over Spargus again. Sig was currently asking Damas for a pay rise.

"Yeah right SIG! WHEN PIGS FLY!" Damas laughed, he threw back his head with hysterics, just in time to see Praxis fly past above them. 

"Alright…pay up man…" Sig said as he looked at Damas sternly, one hand on his hip, the other outstretched to take the money.

"YOU PIG!" Damas screamed after Praxis.

_We're driving in the air_

_We're rusting in the frozen sky_

_We're drifting over icy_

_Mountains floating by_

The "lovable" Baron passed back through Haven City again. He went over the local day care, where the children were having their annual, sculptor your hero in ice contest. Praxis advanced on a figure, which looked very much like a large mountain, the mower's blades coming to close a contact with the figure, churning it to bits…he would never know that it was really a sculpture of him…sitting on the couch with a beer, his massive gut high in the sky…he would never know…that he had a fan…

_Suddenly swooping low on an ocean deep_

_Arousing of a mighty monster from its sleep_

Praxis passed over oceans, he swooped toward over the metal head nest, awakening Kor. Kor was angry to be awoken so early (12:30pm). He chased after Praxis angrily…

"You fat imbecile!" the monster form of Kor screamed as he flew after Praxis.

_We're driving in the air_

_We're floating in the fat filled sky_

_And everyone who sees us greets us as we fly_

Praxis floated back through Haven City.

"Go back to hell ya _fat_ moron!" Torn screamed after Praxis. Praxis suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He reversed the mower back towards Torn, the ending of the song still playing in the background, as the mower made that beeping noise that trucks make when they reverse.

"What was that…? Grinchy Grinch!" Praxis hissed as he came up right next to Torn. Torn growled before another rampage broke out…yes…it was going to be one heavy Christmas…and no doubt, a flabby new year…

THE END…******

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******Corad: Um..yeah...Bijoux just kinda crumbled into this pile of bones on the floor...so yeah...  
Bijoux: Mmmm...bones...  
Jak:...dude...are feeling okay...?  
Bijoux: No...never...mind your own business fatty!  
Praxis: (somewhere off screen) I'm over here...(awkward silence breaks out as Damas and Kleiver too respond, waving their arms in the air)...  
Sharok: Why are all you people so dumb...?  
Everyone but Sharok: I dunno...(shrugs) internet...  
Sharok: Okay...please review...it will make Christmas happy...unless Praxis comes to destroy it in reality too...Bijoux also says sorry for any Santa or 'Walking on Air' bashing...  
Bijoux: We also wish you a Heavy Chrismas...and a Flabby new year...  
**


	27. The Race To End All Races PT2

**Corad: Howdy again guys...long time since I've written a Palace Story I think...although I helped Bijoux with some ideads for the idiotic Chrissy special, she did the honours and wrote it. Her sense of writing is more stupid than mine coz I guess she's funnier (shrugs) Nyeh...thanks to everyone who reviewed too! We're so glad you all liked the last chappie, and to the new readers, thankyou too! I guess there's a bit of Palace stories in all of us now...  
Jak: Um...are you ok man? You seem odd...(waves hand in front of face)  
Corad: (Ignoring Jak) On with the next edition of THE RACE TO END ALL RACES...**

**Don't own, and it's probably a good thing we don't too...coz like, our Baron would be like the Baron in this...except, it would be a reality O.O

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**Palace Stories – how many times must I say this…most likely has been exaggerated…to the MAX! WWHHHOOOOHHHH!**

**The Race to End All Races – Part two**

Wimps…how that simple name had scarred so many innocent lives…how it had echoed throughout each and every mind…how it had started that huge argument leading to a mass rampage of Baron Praxis…well, we can listen to that story another time…for now, we're gonna sit tight and listen to the second gruesome chapter of this random insane race.

It was another happy and cheerful day for the city of Haven. Crowds of people wandered the streets without any fear. Guards played hopscotch on the port, the Losers having to dive into the deadly depths below. But all was not well for the city. No, if only Praxis had forgotten that he had yet to finish the Race to End all races…but instead, he had woken up early in the morning, and was now bounding down the hall in the Palace, screaming for obedience from what he now called his "slaves".

"But father…we're tired…it's only…5 am. Why can't you just sleep in for once?" Ashelin moaned, dragging her feet as she followed her father to the main entrance. Praxis began laughing loudly, his chronic laughter traveling all through the building, awaking Erol and Veger. Soon after both Praxis and Ashelin heard angry yells emitting from the rooms around them.

"Why must you wake us up, at this hour!" Veger roared in agitation, one of his arms being pulled forcefully out the door a few minutes later. Baron Praxis just giggled, and continued his dragging sprees of not only Veger, but now a nice compilation of Jak, Torn, Tess, Damas, Keira, Samos, Sig, Mog, Jinx, Kleiver, Seem, Ashelin, Daxter and Erol. How he managed to drag all 15 racers by just two hands was beyond anyone's answer, but eventually they were all standing in the Palace "stables"…or more like, the garage.

"Now that we're all here…get the hell out! The race starts in 30!" Praxis shouted, spit flying everywhere and over everything. He pointed furiously towards the door of his garage, and so the others began a mass evacuation to get their chariots and horses ready. Once everyone had left (apart from The Baron and his trusty sidekick Commander Lard) Praxis strolled over to his bloodthirsty chariot, and began stroking it.

"We're gonna win today's race…yes we are…heh, yes we are," he cooed to the two wheeled wagon, Erol rolling his eyes in the background while tapping his foot impatiently on the ground.

"Baron Sir…why are their two more horses tied to that thing?" Erol suddenly asked, after spotting not two but four horses strapped to the front of the chariot. Praxis turned around, holding a whip in his massive hands.

"Now Erol…Kor and Vin didn't need their horses anymore, so they're mine now," Praxis explained, his eye wide as in it was the most obvious thing in the world. Erol sighed heavily and took the whip from the Baron, before clambering up into the driver's area at the front of the wagon. Praxis somehow got in after him, the chariot shaking and rocking violently. Once both were in, Praxis unsheathed his sword, the handle of it colliding with Erol's head.

"Erol, get up you moron…this isn't the time for a nap!" the Baron snapped, grabbing Erol by the collar and picking him to his feet, where he stood swaying on the spot. A little time later, the chariot was moving out of the garage, and came to a halt at the steps to the main door.

"Why have we stopped?" Erol murmured, his head now containing a big lump where the Baron had obliviously hit him. Praxis snorted in laughter, and indicated to the ground around them.

"The race is here…see, I've even marked the track," Praxis boomed in happiness, as Erol noticed what appeared to be line markings made of fruit and veggies purified. He had a hunch those were the veggies the cook had attempted to feed Praxis with earlier on.

"Well, does everyone else know that the race is here?" Erol moaned, gripping the reins even tighter at the thought of being stuck waiting for hours on end with the Baron.

"Of course…not everybody is stupid ya know," Praxis complained, before falling silent. Erol glanced behind him, to see Praxis standing still, not doing or saying anything…until…

"BBBUUUURRRRRRPPPPPPP! Now, that should do it…" Praxis finished, looking down the Mar's tomb for a sign of movement. Eventually the others showed up. Maybe it was the echoingBelch that drew them, or the stench…either way, they came.

Once all drivers had assembled their chariots alongside each other outside the Palace stairs, Praxis shouted at an innocent bystander to countdown the race. It was soon realized that "innocent bystander" was in fact UR86, out on an adventurous journey of revenge.

Before the robot could count down however, that crazy Western music started up (you know, it's on those westernized Movies when two ppl appear in the street ready to duel). The air turned cold, the fat filled atmosphere dripping with even more Baron fat. Yes, the devil stood before them…at the other end of the road.

"Get moving old man!" Baron Praxis shouted, pointing "threateningly" at Onin and Pecker approaching. Pecker began squawking stuff about enraging Onin too much, while Onin did rapid hand movements of death, occasionally with the rude finger pointed at Praxis.

Once all the commotion had sort of died down, UR86 was forced to stand in the centre of the racing line, about 10 meters away from the roaring mad drivers and warriors. He trembled in fear as he lifted his robotic arm, and stood for too long with it raised above his head.

"Start the race, or I will shove that Robotic arm of yours up your Robotic ass!" Praxis shouted in impatience, so UR dropped his arm, the impact of the racers passing him in a mad dash throwing him towards Mar's tomb, where he rolled… for the rest of his life…until he rolled into the port past the tomb.

"Die Old man! DIE!" Praxis yelled, trying to reach Ashelin with his blade. She managed to somehow dodge her father's abuse, and whipped Erol on the back as punishment. Screaming out in pain and alarm, Erol swerved the chariot all over the racing track, his four horses whinnying as they neared Sig and Tess' chariot.

Tess managed to pull her chariot out of range, while Sig began firing random balls of charging piece maker bullets at Erol, which caught his head in an electrical field of "joy". Praxis felt threatened at his new Commander, and began beating him over the head with his sheath in the hopes of turning Erol back to normal.

Meanwhile, Onin and Pecker had not forgotten the Baron's ranting raves last time when they crossed the finish line first, and were keeping a fair distance back, making sure not to be in first place, but still cross the line in the end. They had completed their first lap of 4, and were now advancing towards Samos and Keira, who appeared to be having a hard time fending off Damas and Kleiver. While Keira threw her spanner on a chain at Kleiver, it rebounded pathetically, giving the bigger man an advantage. He used Damas' staff and whacked Keira repeatedly, while also extending his hits time to time at Samos. The two began to lose precious, precious control and soon fell behind, Onin and Pecker overtaking and laughing. Well, Pecker did…Onin kinda just…did hand signals to show some form of mocking display.

A little ahead, Jinx and Mog were increasing their speed, breaking away from the others, only to be met with Jak firing at them from behind. A bullet hit the wheel, causing the chariot to rock unsteadily. Jinx flew face first into the floor, his grenades all-falling out his waist bag and the pins somehow coming out.

"Quick! Get them out!" Mog wailed, whipping the two horses to get their speed up a little. Jinx fumbled around the ground with the five or so grenades, and hurled them out the chariot. They all landed in Jak's, and numerous girly screams could be heard. Most were screams of fear and shame…but another was of insanity, for Jak knew he could easily toss them out at Veger and Seem behind him.

And so, the grenade wars eventuated. Jak threw them out his own "vehicle" to Veger's, who passed it on to Ashelin and Torn. It was kinda like "Pass the Parcel" that you play at little kiddy parties…except, when the music stopped (courtesy of the Baron), time was up for Keira and Samos. Yes, Onin could see the perfect trap. She could sense fear in Keira's eyes…Samos' beard (Bijoux: Um…isn't Onin blind?) I'm writing this…so I decide who's blind and not…well, she could sense them anyway, regardless of how.

Just as Keira reached down to throw the grenades back to Onin seeing they were the last team, Onin loaded her machine gun, Pecker screaming insane things acting as Onin's voice. Yes, those few split seconds where the machine gun bullets flew out all over the place, some hitting guards, others the palace and other drivers…but the one that hit the grenade. That fatal bullet…

"I regret nothing!" Keira screamed as her chariot blew up, bits of metal and wood flying everywhere. Samos flew so high that he disappeared over the city walls, and the horses all ran off, for some strange reason heading inside the palace. Now that the "losing" team had been annihilated, Onin and Pecker were free to take their sweet old time getting over the line.

Up ahead however, it was city war three, as Praxis and Kleiver began girl slapping each other over the face. Apparently while Keira was exploding, Praxis had said some hurtful things…some being "You stink Kleiver! Damas you pig! You guys are so fat!" and now, taking much offense, the weapons had been dropped and forgotten about, the hands used instead.

Erol was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the chariot on track, and seeing the end was drawing nearer, he felt he should at least make the finish line alive. He could tell Damas was also struggling controlling the reins, as Kleiver leaned over his chariot and slapped Baron hard over the face.

Tears ran down Praxis' face, and he punched Erol in the gut, winding him. The commander dropped to the ground, gasping for air as Praxis' took hold of the reins and steered his chariot far from Damas and Kleiver as he could. He somehow rode over a few citizens without thinking twice, their ear piercing screams coming from under the chariot.

As Erol got to his feet, Praxis roared in anger, the sight of Sig and Tess overtaking…and right before the finish line too! "Eat this!" the Baron roared, and Erol wondered how he was going to wield a sword and steer at the same time…Praxis wasn't planning on wielding his sword…no…he was going to use Commander Force.

"What are you – NNNNOOOOOOO!" Erol screamed, as the Baron grabbed his wrist and somehow hurled him out the chariot towards Sig and Tess. Sig saw the assault and fired his piece maker, which hit the commander sending him to the pavement below. Whether Erol lived through that or not, we shall never know O.O

Praxis cried in disbelief, as Sig and Tess were still alive somehow, and screamed in defeat as they passed the finish line. He had believed kicking the commander out would in fact speed up the chariot, seeing the commander was a tub of lard and weighed the most (cough cough) But his plan backfired, his four horses seeming almost pointless. No, Praxis had come in second…again…

While Sig and Tess were cheering, Praxis was pouting still in his chariot. The others crossed the line one at a time soon after…that is, all except Samos and his daughter…and Erol… (shows Erol all twisted out of place on the ground with a few gaurds prodding him with their prodders) Yes, but because Sig and his blonde friend had somehow beaten the mighty Baron, Praxis vowed revenge…the revenge that would end all revenges…

"Can we quit now?…Father, this has gotten out of control. Both Keira and Samos are dead," Ashelin explained, wandering up to her father who lay lifeless in the chariot. Geez, defeat for him must be like…death or something for us.

"Not now honey…daddy's grieving…" Praxis mourned. Somewhere outside the city walls, Samos was wandering about, marauders and metal heads stalking him. Because he's so ignorant to everything though, he didn't notice. Keira was…how should we put this so it won't scare young children? Well…she was grocery shopping (all little kids screams can be heard) She figured now that her short racing career was over, she may as well buy some long needed food to replenish the stock Jak had somehow fused together and devoured the night before.

And so…the second race concludes…until next time when the Baron forces the remaining living racers to race…and until he nicks off with Samos and Keira's horses, so he'll have a total of 6 innocent animals pulling his fat around…poor, poor horses… -.-

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**Gir: I'm gonna sing the doom song now...Doom, doom doom doom doom, doom doom doom, doooooommmmmm...  
Corad: What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be killing Dib or something?  
Gir: I... don't...know...(wanders off aimlessly)  
Corad: How odd O.o...um yeah, that was the second race to end all races...poor Keira and Samos...and grocery shopping...I always feared that simple phrase as a child...it sends fear through the hearts of little kids everywhere...so that's why it's so scary...heheh, Torn grocery shopping...we should write about that...or maybe we already have...either way. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and review if you got the time...we which kinda hope you do...sis has an idiotic chapter to put up too, so maybe the more reviews we get, she'll put it up faster. Or not...judging by her ability, she won't leave the PS2 now...**


	28. Pixie Dust?

**Bijoux: Hey, moron head here, with another stupid installment to the Palace Stories family...I got this idea from Card Master7777 he/she (?) gave in an idea for the Baron to sell off the Palace for something stupid...so yeah...if Card Master is reading this, then thanks...Corad says thanks to Some Dude too, for liking the picture she drew of Queeny and other...um...yeah...**

**I don't own Jak and Daxter, the Spice Girls, Pixie Dust...or anything else that seems suspicously familier...I also can't spell...**

**

* * *

Palace Stories- Exaggerated………to the MAX! **

**Magic Pixie Dust…?**

It was a happy day in Haven City. Damas had ventured out of Spargus and was currently standing at the front door of the palace, a bucket of what looked like sand was being held behind his back.

"Hehe that fool won't know what hit him…" Damas laughed as Praxis appeared at the front door. Praxis was holding what looked like a mangled falling apart burrito in his right hand and his left hand was casually scratching his oversized behind.

"This had better be good! You're cutting into Praxis time!" (Praxis time Praxis standing in some random place in the palace eating something and scratching his butt at the same time, _aimlessly_) Praxis spat at Damas before he stuffed half of his mangled burrito into his mouth and chewed it like a wild boar eating slag; the moment even resembled the boar thing, the burrito being the slagish look alike…

"Hello Mr. Baron Praxis…" Damas began but soon cut off by Mr. Baron Impatient.

"Cut with cr()p and get to the point old man!" Praxis spat, bits of burrito flew out his mouth and collided with Damas.

"Okay…Well, you see, I have a deal for you…I'll give you this bucket of magic pixie dust (Cough)sand(cough) in exchange for your palace…" Damas couldn't help but grin at the sight of Praxis' beaming face.

Praxis had always wanted some pixie dust to call his own. He had always dreamed of being able to fly. That way he could get to the kitchen before anyone else and eat all the breakfast…but…that was kinda before he started 'killing' off the 'competitors' by throwing them backwards or off the stairs, by belly butting them into the walls or by just generally…err…'killing' them off, on the way to breakfast…

"DEAL!" Praxis yelled as he dropped his burrito on the pavement then grabbed the pixie dust. He then ran back into the palace to get the others.

"Father…I told you, none of us like the Spice Girls like you do so we really don't care if they're holding a concert out here…right Veger…?" Ashelin asked as she eyed Veger suspiciously.

Veger laughed nervously as he lowered a Posh Spice wig from his head. Ashelin rolled her eyes.

"Oh come on! Everyone likes the Spice Girls..." Praxis happily declared as he grabbed Erol's wrist and began to pull him towards the Slums.

"Um…actually sir…I hate--"

"I SAID EVERYONE!" Praxis roared as he stopped dead in his tracks and turned to chuck a fit at Erol.

"Yes sir…" Erol agreed, not wanting to cause a Praxis based rampage.

Ashelin rolled her eyes as the four of them continued to the slums. Along the way some citizens screamed and cowered at the passing by Baron. They didn't know why or how he left the palace, but they felt as though they would get run over by something if they hung around too long.

The cold truth, was however, that there was no Spice Girls concert in the slums…it had all been a lie to try and lure everyone who would protest, out of the Palace, so that Praxis could live up to his deal with Damas…

Meanwhile at the Palace

"Okay, yeah, you're good…you're good…" Damas guided Jak, as he reversed a toe truck towards the Palace. (Jak is coming out of that road thing above the bizarre…you now that place and the base is glass…with the railing…and that fat pedestrian guy got stuck up there on my game…and he kept getting hit by cars…Heheheheheh…yeah…good times…)

Jak's driving however was not good and he kept smashing into zoomers. The walls of the truck were also scraping against the sides of the railing, causing the walls to have deep scratches in it.

Once Jak had gotten close enough, Kleiver jumped out of the truck and walked over to the Palace. He got an extra long chain from the toe truck and wrapped it around the base of the Palace, securing his work with the hook.

Kleiver and Damas then jumped into the truck and the three of them then toed the Palace towards the wasteland…even through the ocean and all…

"This will make an excellent battle arena!" Damas sighed as Jak smashed through security wall after security wall, on his 'shortcut' filled journey back to the wasteland.

Meanwhile back at the slums…

"Grrr…Father I'm tired of waiting for something which isn't going to happen!" Ashelin growled as she stood up from the curve of road she was previously sitting on. She had lost her temper many times with Praxis, but this was the last straw. They had been sitting in the

Slums for what seemed like and eternity, waiting for the Spice Girls to finish setting up their concert, which Praxis had claimed was invisible…

"I'm going home…" Ashelin spat as she stormed off. Praxis began to get worried that she would be angry when she went home to find no home…

"WAIT NOO! Ashelin please wait…it won't be the same without you! Don't you want to get Ginger's autograph! It was your life long dream! Remember!" Praxis screamed near to tears as he leapt to the ground and grabbed his daughter's ankles, in the hope of stopping her.

Ashelin made a sort of sigh and hiss at the same time as she rolled her eyes and turned to face her Father's whimpering form on the dusty ground.

"Father, that was you life long dream…and you got it last winter…and you still want it for some reason!" Ashelin growled as she shoed Praxis away from her feet and then turned to continue home.

Scared as hell Praxis gave up his hopes to stop Ashelin and went to tie up the others before they tried to go home too. He would rather only get yelled at by one of them, than all of them.

Ashelin was almost out of sight by the time Praxis had tied up and gagged Veger. Praxis had had to sit on Erol, as he tried to make a runner when he realized that he was next to be Praxis' Prisoner…this act had only made his…err 'cell'…worse though…

(Ashelin's travels)

Ashelin was getting rather sick of her fathers 'adventures'…she'd had to endure one for the past…at least 15 years…everyday…

She even remembered when she was 8 years old and Praxis had taken her and Erol trick or treating (not shopping). He had rung this one doorbell numerous times, wanting candy, but after he was ignored numerous times he gave up. She remembered the words and actions as if he'd done it yesterday…which he had…he kinda managed to unknowingly '_rein act_' it…

(Flash Back)

"HEY! Hey you no good freeloaders! Give me candy or die! DO YOU KNOW WHO THIS IS! I'M THE BARON! THIS IS MY CITY! GIVE ME YOUR CANDY!" Praxis roared as he pegged an egg at one of the windows of his foe's house.

A crowed had gathered around to witness Praxis' fit of rage, but it was only until Ashelin said: "Dad…this is our house…or Palace if you want it that way…" that the senselessness really began…

"Not now sweetie…Daddy's teaching the city's Baron some respect!" Praxis said in a sissy tone as he patted Ashelin on the head then hurled another ten eggs at a window of his own Palace, "NOW YOU LAZY SLAG! COME OUT AND FIGHT! YOU WORTHLESS FREELOADER! I WORK MY ASS OFF FOR THIS CITY! KEEPING EVERYTHING UNDER CONTROL AS BARON! THEN YOU COME ALONG AND BE THE WORST BARON THIS CITY HAS EVER SEEN! YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED BARON PRAXIS! NOW COME

DOWN HERE AND FIGHT ME: BARON PRAXIS!" Praxis had never embarrassed Ashelin so much in her life…

She had to drag him away that fearful night, to McDonalds, so that he could calm his nerves.

He had however come back to his Palace later to realize that '_someone_' had egged it…this had then resulted in a Halloween special rampage…

(End Flashback)

Ashelin shuddered at the memory as she turned a corner and came face to face with the… "Palace"…or what was left of it anyway…AKA a couple of pipes, a toilet getting held up high in the air by a few more pipes, and the front stairs to the Palace, which now led to a pit, which was an empty garage, which was usually underneath the palace, full of Erol's prized zoomers, and other vehicles, unimportant to him…

"What the…?" Ashelin asked herself as she examined the ruins of her home…before some one _obviously_ stole it…

Ashelin let her gaze follow the path of destruction leading through the port area…the support cables had also been pulled down, and dragged causing more destruction to the city, when the palace was taken and obviously dragged out the city.

It was probably now that Ashelin realized that this was why her father didn't want her to go home…and that there really wasn't an invisible spice girls' concert…

She angrily growled before storming back off to the slums to yell at her bewildered father.

Some time later…

"FATHER!" Ashelin spat at her father as she approached with rage filled veins and eyes.

"Yes honey…?" Praxis whimpered, sweat and what looked like some form of sympathy tears were running down his face as he nervously smiled at his vastly approaching daughter.

"Where is the palace!" Ashelin hissed once she had come close enough to her father, to unintentionally cover him in angry waves of spit.

"Err…well sweetie…you see there comes a time in every Baron's life when, someone shoves a bucket of magic pixie dust under his nose, in exchange for his palace and dignity…" Praxis chuckled as he pulled the magic "pixie" sand out of nowhere and showed to his fuming daughter.

"Magic pixie what…?" Erol and Ashelin said at the same time, Veger probably said it too though it only came out as a muted grumble.

"Magic pixie dust!" Praxis cheered happily getting off of Erol and showing the sand about once again.

Ashelin zoomed her gaze into the bucket and examined the substance closely…it was sand…plain old sand…She could feel the anger rising in her veins again.

"Father…this is just sand…" Ashelin soon unenthusiastically groaned looking up at her father with a look of hatred and shame.

"NU-AH!" Praxis screamed denying like as he pulled the bucket away from his daughter's hate filled mind, "It's pixie dust! Damas said he'd give it to me in exchange for the palace!"

"YOU SOLD THE PALACE FOR SAND!" Ashelin spat angrily and literally at her father.

"NO! PIXIE DUST!" Praxis spat back with anger. Erol and Veger were slowly backing away from Praxis and Ashelin's argument, looks of fear in their eyes, as they exchanged looks of concern every now and then.

"IT'S SAND FATHER! WORTHLESS! USELESS! SAND!" Ashelin screamed with fury in her tone.

"(Gasp) Ashelin! Don't you ever criticize the magical pixie dust of heaven!" Praxis said with horror in his tone, "With its magical glow…it's magical powers…it's magical smell…why, I could eat now…" Praxis said as he began to drool over the bucket.

There was about 2 minutes of confused, and awkward silence, before Praxis slammed his face into the sand and began to eat it like a lunatic on drugs.

"NOW MY MAGIC PIXIE DUST! GIVE ME YOUR POWERS!" Praxis roared before he ran away on another aimless baron filled rampage.

It was not long before Praxis had begun to scoop up left over sand from the bucket and throw it at Guards' faces. They would run screaming into walls in a fit of eye sore blindness.

"Can't there be at least one day in Haven city which doesn't end in an aimless rampage caused by its own Baron…?" Ashelin mumbled, slapping her face irritably with shame.

"BRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRWWW!" Praxis screamed as he ran past, his stance much like that of an angry gorilla's, being chased by something.

Ashelin groaned with embarrassment before covering her face and strolling home, muttering to herself. Veger and Erol managed to pick up some words including 'Stupid…can't even…and never been able…stupid…hole…flab get's the better of him…everyday it happens! EVERYDAY!'

"SEE!" Praxis was screaming, "It controls the animals!" at these words Praxis grabbed a handful of sand and threw it at a passing by citizen. The citizen screamed as the sand collided with his eyes, before running into a wall.

The rampage lasted a long time after Ashelin, Erol and Veger had got "home". They had seated themselves in the ditch known as the garage, and were thinking of a plan to get the Palace back. Erol was crying his eyes out at the loss of vehicles. It was a daunting site to see him cry over such a foolish thing, when he had lost his complete home anyway…

The three of them could here screams echoing around the city, before explosions or other, visible from a distance, occurrences occurred.

It was much like a horrid Hollywood remake of World War 2…but worse…

"It could've thought that a bucket of sand could cause so much trouble…" Veger groaned as another scream filled explosion occurred, followed by the Baron's voice screaming something like "You can run but you can't flab roll!"…

Ashelin rolled her eyes.

"So where are we gonna stay…?" Erol asked as he wiped his face clean of tears and managed to become sane again.

"Errr…well……"

(5 minutes later)

"What in the name of cr()p are you people doing here!" Torn screamed as he walked through the doors of the underground to find Ashelin, Veger and Erol sleeping on his bunk beds.

"My father sold the Palace to Damas, for a bucket of sand which he claimed was Pixie dust…" Ashelin moaned as she once again rolled her eyes (She must do this like what…50 times a day…?).

"What…SAND!" Torn screamed with a sudden look of terror crossed between hatred on his face, "DAAAAAMAAAAAAS! I WAN'T MY CAT BACK!" Torn screamed at the ceiling.

Everyone in the room looked slightly horrified, and soon came to the conclusion that the underground wasn't safe either. They started heading towards the door again.

They were however stopped, when the Baron himself, came barging into the underground, belly butting everyone out of the stairway.

"OKAY! WHO'S THE WISE GUY!" Praxis roared at everyone.

"Father…what happened…?" Ashelin sighed as she walked up to her agro looking father.

"Some moron sold my Palace for sand! I'LL KILL HIM!" Praxis thundered, spit flying out of his mouth.

"Um…sir…you're the one who sold the palace for sand…" Erol mumbled as he slowly advanced on Praxis.

"WHAT!" Praxis screamed, the walls of the Underground shaking as he did so.

"Yeah…you sold it to Damas…" Torn grunted, as he headed towards his round desk at the back of the Underground.

"Damas…? Damas! DAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAS!" Praxis screamed as he grabbed everyone in the room (including Torn), and barged out the staircase, and literally through the front door.

"FATHER! WHAT IN HELL'S NAME ARE YOU DOING!" Ashelin screamed as Praxis ran through the city towards the port, kicking innocence, (some who weren't even in his way) out of the way.

Praxis had soon rampaged his tubby legs into the port and had thrown everyone into the air train. He went round front and kicked the driver out, before climbing into the drivers seat and taking off.

The ride to the wasteland was a bumpy one, and everyone was sure it was going to result in a few hundred graves being dug. The train kept doing flips and turns in the sky, and Praxis would occasionally get too close to a mountain or tree and scrape the sides of it.

"He's gone mad!" Veger screamed as he clutched to Ashelin for dear life. Ashelin tried to pry him away as Torn began doing the same thing as Veger, to Erol.

"TORN!" Erol screamed as the train violently shook, causing everyone to slide off their seats and onto the floor, in a painful heap.

Luckily every nightmare comes to an end, and this one ended with a great scraping noise, followed by a great bang coming from the engine.

The exit door of the train opened and everyone crawled out to meet Praxis standing there, looking a lot calmer than before, as he dully scratched his butt.

"I'm hungry…" Praxis moaned as everyone slowly straightened himself or herself up, still looking scared.

Erol walked over to the Baron and examined what had happened to the air train. It was bad. Very bad. The train had dints and scratches all over it. It had smoke bellowing out from underneath it and looked like it had just entered a monster truck rally, Jak was always dragging people too.

"Um…sir…what did you hit…?" Erol asked as he looked up at Praxis. Praxis shrugged, saying that he didn't know.

Erol rolled his eyes and looked behind him to see that Praxis had officially run into, and destroyed the lighthouse thing on top of Spargus' palace.

"O…K…" Erol said as Praxis began to walk towards the gates of Spargus. Everyone soon followed, not wanting the Baron to do anything too stupid.

Praxis spotted his Palace once they had entered the city; it was…errr, 'parked' next to Damas' palace. Praxis growled as his anger returned.

"DAAAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!" Praxis roared as he charged towards the Palace, punching Waste Landers in the face as he went along.

"I'll kill you!" Praxis screamed once he spotted Damas standing next the palace, admiring his new home.

Praxis was the last thing Damas saw, before his lights went out. He felt his back collide with the dirt floor before he lay half unconscious on the ground.

"SIR! NOOOOOOOOOO!" Erol screamed as he ran up to the Baron and tried to restrain his fist from hitting Damas again.

"Father!" Ashelin screamed as she too ran up to Praxis, "If you be good, we'll go to the ice cream parlour on the way home!"

Praxis' twisted, raging face, turned into a happy, childish grin at the words 'ice cream parlour'. He excitedly ran into Kleiver's garage, tore a steering wheel off a vehicle then grabbed the other Palace cronies, and threw them into the Palace.

"Err…Praxis…? What are you doing…?" Veger asked as his Baron walked towards the nearby bathroom. He opened the door to meet Jak sitting on the dunny, reading a magazine.

"Hey! Ever heard of privacy!" Jak screamed with shock at the approaching Baron. Daxter appeared out of nowhere.

"Yeah! Ever heard of privacy!" Daxter too screamed, before the baron kicked him, like a soccer ball, out the door. Daxter skidded along the floor before flying out the Palace's front door.

Jak screamed as he got to his feet, pulling up his pants and flushing the dunny, before the Baron picked him up by the collar and threw him after Daxter.

Praxis then got the ramrod's steering wheel and began smashing it into the downstairs toilet's tank (the place where the water comes from). Once the steering wheel was 'fitted' properly, the Baron sat on the lid, facing the small window of the toilet.

"Um…father…you aren't planning to drive the Palace back like _this_…are you…?" Ashelin asked as she eyed her father.

"Not now sweetie! Daddy's getting back at someone! You'll pay for making a fool of me Damas…" Praxis hissed as he hunched himself over the toilet tank, turning his left hand over the flusher (which is sticking off of the tank), like people do on motorbikes…

Everyone eyed Praxis, doubting that this would actually work. They were all incredibly surprised when the Palace suddenly lurched forward.

Everyone screamed as they almost fell to the floor, grabbing on to the closest thing to help steady themselves.

"What the (beep)!" Torn screamed as he flew to the floor, the lamp he was holding, falling down and breaking next to him.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Praxis screamed as he destroyed half of Spargus, just to exit it.

"SIR! SLOW DOWN WOULD YA!" Erol screamed as he flew to the floor too, he was clutching the doorframe of the bathroom.

"Not now sweetie, daddies driving!" Praxis happily said to _Erol_. Erol gave Praxis a strange look, before trying to find a safer place to stay.

Ashelin and Torn had by now climbed into the elevator and were frantically trying to press the right button, which would lead to a safer room.

Veger was crying and screaming like a little girl as the Palace drove into Haven city. Screams from outside could be heard as the Palace destroyed almost everything.

And as I said earlier…every nightmare comes to an end…well…_this__one_ ended when Praxis fell asleep at the wheel, smashing into a building, which somehow managed to stop the Palace from driving any further.

Erol let out a sigh of relief as he climbed to his feet and walked into the bathroom. Praxis had his face smashed into the tank of the toilet and was snoring 'peacefully'.

"No mummy! That's my chocolate hair gel! Nooo…don't take (belch)…" Praxis screamed in his sleep as Erol grabbed a hold of an unconscious Veger and left the Palace to it's own demise. Torn and Ashelin soon left too.

Torn immediately started screaming once he left the Palace. He clutched his head in horror at the sight of his Unground, directly across from the Palace. He fell to his knees, cursing at the sky, asking why God hated him so much.

Ashelin crouched down next to him and patted his back in a comforting manner.

Praxis soon awoke due to Torn's screaming, and left the Palace. He walked up to a guard and screamed at him to fix the destruction and horror the Palace, (Praxis claimed) had created itself.

The guard groaned angrily before he stormed up to the Palace, growling at it.

He looked down, and noticed that a small bucket was it his feet. It appeared to be a quarter filled with sand…by the looks of it, it was the same bucket the Baron was clutching when he went on that rampage a while ago…

"Stupid sand!" the guard spat as he kicked the bucket at the Palace. The sand flew out and landed on and around the Palace.

"Huh…?" The guard looked up to see the Palace levitating above the city, before it hovered back to where it had previously been. Once it had been dropped in the centre of the city, the support towers went back to where they used to be and went upright. The buildings began to repair themselves and the security walls filled in their gaps.

Back in Spargus, things were repairing by themselves too. Damas had been pulled to his feet, fully alive and in the best shape of his courier. Jak and Daxter's scars and cuts were healed.

It seemed as though everything was back to normal…well…everything except…

"Wanted to, couldn't escape if I wanted too! WOOOHOOOHOOO! Wanted to! Couldn----huh…" Kleiver had driven the ramrod out of his garage, though it had no steering wheel, and only just noticed that he was steering thin air, when the wheel magically appeared back on the dashboard. This confused Kleiver to no end and he soon smashed into a wall.

The ABBA song Kleiver was listening too, began to go in slow mode, before it blew up, as Kleiver pulled his flabby body out of the half destroyed ramrod.

No one really knew how the place got fixed. The guard, who was commanded to fix the destruction in Haven, was more confused than anyone, and soon started selling sand to people, claiming that it was Pixie dust, and that it actually worked.

Of course it wasn't pixie dust…it was just sand…but maybe…it was magic sand…(makes ghost noises, and does freaky movement with fingers and hands)…

End…?

* * *

**Bijoux: Uh...um...I can explain...  
Sharok: No you can't...you're an idiot...  
Bijoux:...wait a minute...GET OUTTA THIS FIC FATTY! (Whips Sharok in the butt with a wet towel. Sharok runs away screaming and cursing...) Anyway...if any of you have Jak X, if you haven't already unlocked the bloopers, then do it now...they are so good...Corad cried...I laughed...we woke up our brother...he laughed too, espicially the scene with GT Blitz without his make up...who could know no makeup could do that to the poor guy...anyway, please review...  
**


	29. The Race To End All Races PT3

**Corad: By popular demand, Razer is now entering Palace Stories...and he has his own special way of entering too, which you guys will find out when ya read this chapter. Um, this is another Race chapter for the Race to end all Races, so I hope you guys enjoy reading this update. Thankyou so much to the reviewers and readers. To Merryb, I think Kleiver was listening to "Wanted Too" or something. Not sure of the correct name, but it's on the Simpsons at some point when Mr Burns is in the tank hunting for Homer's mother. You know, Smithers taped over the killing victory music...yeah...(room falls into uneasy silence) Ok, to StoneScorpian, I'm sure we'll somehow insert Jet Board idiocy into it. Maybe Jak can be riding it them the Baron steels it...before attempting to ride the board...and then it snaps in half...hehehehe...or something. To Some Dude, I think I said on the Cry of the Wolf update I finished your friend's pic, so if you guys wanna check it out or something when you got the time, that'd be cool. And thanks again to the other reviewers. Much appreciated you spend your time leaving comments. Thankyou!**

**We don't own, and for the mercy of the Lord, we never will...or you'd get the next "adventure" game, and it'd just be all these Palace stories fused into one, and instead of being Jak you'd be Praxis...running around not saving the city, but destroying it.

* * *

Palace Stories – If it contains Baron Praxis, it's been exaggerated…**

**The Race to End all Races – Part 3**

"Commander…"

"Yes?"

"I think I've found our solution."

"To what?"

"Well, the reason why we're always losing, is because we don't have a famous driver on our chariot team. So, if I'm not mistaken, we should buy the best racer money can buy," Praxis muttered one morning at breakfast, a small notebook in his hand with poorly sketched chariots and people in it.

"How is a 'famous' driver going to help us win? Besides, I'm the driver," Erol confirmed, eying Praxis carefully. The Baron snorted in laughter, and stood up from the breakfast table, before fleeing from the room. Erol wasn't sure whether to feel scared or relieved, but that afternoon when the Baron had claimed another race was to be held at the Stadium, he was pretty sure he was scared.

"Erol, I'd like you to meet our new Razer. I bought him today at the local pet store," Praxis said happily, dragging what appeared to be Razer through the Erol's bedroom door. The commander could see the look of boredom on Razer's face, and knew all too well how he felt.

"But sir, having Razer on our team won't necessarily equal our victory. And what about me? Aren't I your driver? I've managed to keep us both alive, haven't I?" the commander explained, although, that flashback of Praxis tossing him out the chariot at Sig and Tess did kinda seem like a bad thing right about now.

"Erol, you and your stories…the Metal heads are evil. Veger, your nose is too large, Praxis, lose some weight so I can see the TV over your beer gut…" the Baron rolled his eyes at Erol, unaware that he had in fact said those things, not Erol.

"Um, I don't want to be a drag, but why am I here?" Razer asked, eying the duo suspiciously. Praxis giggled and ran forward, grabbing Erol's wrist and somehow dragging both smaller men from the room. He appeared shortly after in the garage of the palace.

"Now Razer Blade…meet Miss Deathman," Praxis introduced his new driver to his upgraded chariot. Yet again it had two more horses added to the front, and now had large spikes coming out the sides. "Let's all go to the Stadium…and kick some AshTorn ass!" he bellowed, hurling Erol up into the chariot, then Razer. He got in himself, the wheels creaking quite dangerously as he did so.

What happened next however…was a mystery why Razer was even there. "Erol, you take the reins and whip, and where's my sword…ah, there it is," Praxis muttered, picking up his bloody sword from Yesterday. He then turned to Razer who was smoking.

"No smoking in my presence! I am the queen!"

"Err…yes sire, you are the queen…" Razer replied, putting his cigarette out and tossing it on the ground. Praxis smiled in joy and instructed Erol to "move out". Once moving out the garage and into the populated city, Razer began to question his attendance.

"Is there a reason why you hired me?" he asked, after being forced to sit at the back of the chariot, doing nothing. Praxis began laughing like a loony, the whole of the city fleeing from him now. "Well…is there?"

"Erol, you and your stories…"

"But I didn't say anything…"

"Oh…Razer, you and your stories. (Imitating Razer) I'm not a dog. I didn't come from a pet store. Stop calling me a lass. Why do you stink? (Back to normal) See, I bought you because you have won many races…so if we have you on our team, we will win."

"He's not doing anything…" Erol hissed, steering his 6 horses and chariot towards the canal section. "Technically speaking, he must be driving us around to win. Having him there won't make our chariot holy in anyway, forcing us to victory," Erol snapped, rolling his eyes at Praxis, yet seeing his back was turned to them, he didn't know.

"He's right you know. If you want to win, hand me the reins…except, I haven't driven a chariot before…in fact, I thought they were none existent now…" Razer said thoughtfully, rising to his feet beside the Baron. Praxis growled in impatience, and physically forced Razer to sit back down.

"Sit boy! Now, Erol…where are we?" Praxis asked curiously, after just entering the stadium grounds. "We're meant to be at the stadium Erol! Not the Stadium!"

Erol didn't bother replying this time, and I think Razer was too scared to say anything either. So instead, the commander, the idiot and the Ash Tray all rode inside the stadium, and were soon standing at the starting line. The only problem about this race was though; the track had jumps and holes…whether the horses could drag the chariots over the jumps and holes…we'll have to find out.

"Ok, let me get this straight…you hired me…yes me…to sit here and do nothing? You know, the only reason I won those races was because I was driving the damn cars!" Razer spat, standing to his feet once more before being shoved down again.

"Like, yeah Girlfriend. You're here because you always win. Now, sit down and shut up," Praxis snapped, before he began whistling like an idiot. Erol tried to block out the noise by thinking he was back at home, throwing dunny rolls over Praxis' self statue in the main hall. How he'd always dreamed of doing that.

Not long after Razer was told to shut up for good, did the other racers begin to appear. One by one they rocked up, and lined themselves along the starting line. Jak and Daxter were situated beside Erol and Praxis, and for some reason, Jak was trying to make a friendly conversation with the commander.

"You remember this track, don't ya Erol? We were racing, then I killed you, then you came back and flew into dark eco!" Jak said, a blissful look on his face. Erol gritted his teeth, and took a few steps sideways in the chariot to get as far from Jak as he could. He failed though when Praxis prodded him in the back and told him to get ready.

"Can I go home now? I have cravings," Razer requested, waving his hand from the floor of the chariot. Praxis snorted and flicked his hand down.

"Of course…not…the race is about to start, silly!" he said, before screaming at UR86 again who had just appeared out of nowhere. UR ran for his life when he noticed the Baron screaming at him again, but was stopped when five or so Krimzon Guards dragged him back. Why on earth the Guards couldn't just start the race…

"Ready…" UR began raising his arm shakily. He was scarred for life after the events of yesterday, but was happy to notice that there wasn't any pools of water in the stadium. Only in the canals which were too far for him to roll…he was safe…

"GO!" the robot shouted (although, coz he's hard to understand and he didn't drop his arm, the racers just sat there staring at him).

"Get moving you overturned trashcan!" the Baron shouted, slamming his fist into the chariot side, the wagon shaking under their feet. UR rolled his "eyes" and lowered his arm, embracing himself for the racing impact again. Unluckily for him though, Jak and Daxter somehow ran straight into him, and he flew…just like a robotic version of Mary Poppins…into the canals on the other side of the stadium section wall.

"UR! NOOOOOOOO!" Razer screamed, seeing his red ball of fun disappear from view. He held out his hand in the hopes of reaching his friend…but like, UR was already 100 meters away and still drifting further apart. "You were a fine friend……killer…"

As Razer had been mourning the loss of his friend killer, the race had begun, but Praxis' theory on having a winning racer onboard seemed to be a let down. Not only were they still coming second, the extra weight made it more difficult to steer and control the darn thing.

"Sir, we had a problem…the horses seem to be struggling, and the chariot is creaking more than usual," Erol informed, watching the horses pull hard on the reins and straps connecting them to the chariot. Praxis began laughing like an idiot again, slapping Erol on the back while trying to fend off Seem's artifact throwing spree. He had somehow used his brain and was batting them back at her with his sword.

"Take that old man!" he shouted, amongst the many other screams of his racing buddies.

"Do you have some obsession with saying Old Man?" Erol asked in a growl, pulling back on the reins to slow the horses down as they took a tight corner. Up ahead was a big hole in the track, and he wasn't sure whether they'd make it out alive.

"Well, she is an old man! Look at her! And Veger…pprrrrpppp…don't get me started on the old hag!" Praxis replied, making Xena war cries while doing a victory belly dance sort of thing when Veger dropped back behind them.

"I'm…I'm getting cravings…" Razer repeated, now curled up in a little ball, rocking backwards and forwards. Praxis just shrugged at him, and chose to fight the blissfully unaware Torn instead.

"Hey! Hey watch the hair!" Torn screamed, the blade of Praxis' sword cutting a dreadlock clean from his head. "I spent years growing these!" Torn took hold of his knife, and tried to use self defense with it, but failed when another dreadlock fell to its death.

Down a little towards the end runners, Sig and Tess were inching their way closer to Jinx and Mog. They had seen the opportunity while Jinx held a grenade, to shoot him with the peacemaker. That would blow the grenade up, taking the chariot and their idiotic riders with it. But because someone has already died by grenade backfire loss, we shan't do it again. Let's just say Jinx threw the grenade first and it exploded in mid flight. Good enough plot for the grenade death (shrugs).

Onin and Pecker were still behind, but keeping a lookout for a trap they could use this time round. It had been their fault Keira and Samos had died, and probably their fault again for another team's death. However, they were forced out of this thinking range when fat man Kleiver rocked up beside them.

"Good day Ankle Biters," he said, the staff raised above his head ready to hit them with. Onin "saw" the threat, and began shooting with her machine gun again. Kleiver got scared and backed off; coz a blind lady with a machine gun can only do one thing. Destruction.

"But I think you misunderstand me. I have cravings!" Razer screamed for the 20th time that lap, and because they had three laps of the stadium track to do, in total he would have screamed that same statement 60 times.

"And I told you, Blade Freak, that I don't appreciate smokers!" Praxis roared back, glaring down at Razer who was going slowly mad from lack of smoking. The baron was too caught up with keeping his winning racer under control, that he didn't notice Torn's knife stabbing mid air inches from him, Jak's morph gun shooting bullets at Erol, Sig's Peace Maker gun getting hurled at the back of the chariot, Onin's machine gun bullets occasionally missing their target Sig and hitting them instead, Seem's artifacts hitting Praxis repeatedly in the head, Damas' Staff being whacked into the Baron's backside, and he was even blissfully unaware to the grenades, courtesy of Jinx, landing inches from his feet in the chariot ticking away before they would explode. No, the Baron was only interested in keeping Razer on the ground.

From his lack of cigarette comfort, Razer began screaming and laughing insanely, the abuse from the other teams all dying down just to here and watch him act like a lunatic.

"Quiet Bladey Pie, you're drawing attention to us," Praxis was saying in rapid whispers, prodding the laughing git at his feet with his spiked shoe. It was kinda like when kids are taken from the candy aisle of supermarkets, and they begin screaming and their parents get all embarrassed. Yeah, it was like that…

"Just give him a damn cigarette. It's obviously his only way on staying sane!" Erol shouted, eying the other drivers who were sniggering to themselves.

"No! I don't appreciate smokers! Razer, you cannot smoke under my presence! Smoking is extremely bad for you, and just one cigarette can kill you!" Praxis roared, lighting what looked like a cigar. He began smoking it in front of Razer, as in tormenting him in a way.

"Sir, you said you didn't like smoking," Erol complained, and that was when Praxis realized…

"Oh…yeah…commander Blade, you're so stupid," he said, giggling in awkwardness as he flicked the large cigar out the chariot. It disappeared into the distance, where it struck Sig and Tess' chariot, creating a massive explosion somehow. And Onin and Pecker were both very pleased, seeing they didn't have to be responsible for any else's death, but still come in before last place.

"Why can't I just have one!"

"I hate smoking! That's why!"

"Sir, you're smoking again."

"What! Oh...hehehe…" and yet another cigar was thrown out, this time connecting with Kleiver's ride. Kleiver was way ahead however, and managed to bat the cigar away with his staff, where it struck the charcoaled heap once known as Sig and Tess' chariot. How charcoaled ash could explode again is beyond me, but it did.

"Sir, you've sought revenge!" Erol exclaimed, after realizing that the Baron's vows of revenge had actually come true. Sig and Tess were no more………than a couple of street bums sitting in front of the telly now with beer guts.

"Why Razer…I have, haven't I?" Praxis said in happiness, his face lighting up as the sight of the ash mess disappearing around the corner.

"Baron Sir…I said that," Erol mumbled, and Praxis looked down at the ground, to see Razer, half dead, muttering some crazy foreign language. The effects of smoking cravings to the max.

"Um, should we do away with this?" Praxis asked, nudging Razer dangerously close to the back edge of the chariot. Erol rolled his eyes, and spotted the finish line ahead.

"No, we're almost there. Besides, if you boot him out now, Swamp gas Samos will somehow come back from the dead and beat you," Erol said without any enthusiasm. So, the Baron sat still…or, stood still…a look of expectancy on his face. He was expecting to win, and thanks to Erol's driving, Razer's lunacy, and his complete idiocy, they did win.

"I won! I won!" Praxis boomed, leaping around the finished chariots, his fat wobbling as he did so. Most people felt sick and turned away, while others began cheering him on. "So, do I get that pudding now?" he asked, his face shining with joy as he leered down over the commander.

"Sir, you have to win the whole tournament. Not just one race," Erol replied, backing off a little in case the Baron did something to him. Praxis stood speechless for a split second, before he grabbed Erol and Razer by the heads, and rode happily back to the palace…well, not before tying Sig's and Tess' horses to his own chariot. Heh, now he has 8 horses…

So now we have another two victims to add to Vin, Kor, Keira and Samos' death list. Except, they're not really dead…or are they? (shows 6 tombstones with all their names engraved into it, but then it shows all 6 "dead" people mourning over the gravestones, so like, it doesn't make any sense…)

* * *

**Corad: Yeah, another race chapter done. This is like an elimination race...the losers either get kicked out or die. Or Both...either way. It was scary how Baron Praxis was right about Razer. I mean, how could Praxis be right about anything! Scary stuff. If you guys wanna review or suggest any idiocy to write about, that'd be cool. If not, we'll see ya either Friday or Monday, seeing we can't upload stuff at my dad's. The stories page won't show the stories so we can't add a new chapter...stupid story page (growling as she slumps away)  
Praxis: Remember guys, smoking is bad for you...(shows Praxis holding his cigar again) So don't ever do it...(starts smoking what he's holding) O.o  
Erol: (growling under breath) You're an idiot -.-'**  



	30. The Praxis Virus

**Note: This chapter has been redone and new content has been added. The older version MAY appear on deviantArt. **

**This chapter was formally known as _Deathtop_.**

**There are a few 'slang' terms mentioned in this chapter. Most of them mean 'Police'.**

******Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog. Any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original and rightful owners.**

**Summary: Praxis somehow gets his hands on a computer and the results are disastrous. Meanwhile, Samos is holding everone hostage at the Underground for a very uncanny reason.**

* * *

**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated  
****  
The Praxis Virus  
****  
(Refurbished)**

* * *

The sight of Baron Praxis toddling through the Palace hallways was generally an unpleasant thing to witness. Today it was even worse. _Today_ he was equipped with a wheelbarrow.

"Damn, stupid…" Praxis was muttering darkly. He was trying to force his large, green wheelbarrow through a small doorway; clearly he'd missed out on measurement class during Elementary School. As if his large wheelbarrow wasn't unsettling enough, it was carrying a huge cardboard box. The box was teetering dangerously on a corner, shaking ominously whenever Praxis tried to bum-rush the wheelbarrow through the doorway. Paint and wood chips were breaking off of the surrounding edge of the doorframe. A Krimzon Guard eventually spotted Praxis and rushed over to assist.

"What seems to be the problem here, Sir?" the youthful Guard merrily asked.  
"It won't _fit_!" Praxis whined, much in the manner of a small child.  
"Oh, well, why don't we just take the box out of the wheelbarrow?" the Guard suggested with a smile on his face. Praxis' single eye settled on the Guard, a grumpy look slathered on his face.

"Fine," he pouted.

The young Guard realized midway through his attempt to retrieve the large box from the wheelbarrow that this was a 'one man job' as far as Praxis was concerned. While he heaved and huffed and broke every fingernail he had trying to get a grip on the cardboard, let alone lift it, Praxis merely stood stationary, staring at the box moodily. It was really no surprise when the wheelbarrow capsized, crushing the Guard's kneecaps, while the large box landed on his torso, narrowly missing his head. Again with no help from the Baron, the young Guard had to claw himself out from underneath both things.

"Wow, that was quite heavy," he chuckled almost nervously, massaging his mangled kneecaps as he shakily stood up. "Say, what…what have you got in there, Sir?" the Guard casually asked, evidently quite curious about the box. Praxis' face suddenly lit up.  
"It's my Birthday present from Vin!" he beamed.  
"Oh, really? That's great," the Guard said happily, moving the wheelbarrow out of the way. He began to push the large box through that small doorway, his knees creaking dangerously. Once the job was done, he closed the small door and dusted his hands off.

"There, all done," he claimed, facing the Baron.  
"Excellent!" Praxis mused, "Now I'll be able to stay up _all night _playing on my new computer, in my bedroom."  
"Your…new computer, Sir?" the Guard asked, eyeing that small door nervously.  
"Yeah!" Praxis boomed.  
"Oh, and uh, when did _that_ arrive?" the Guard again eyed that small door.  
"Just then," Praxis stared at the Guard as if he were daft. "We just put it in my bedroom," he jabbed his large thumb at the small door. The Guard looked from left to right in quick succession, a small bead of sweat rolling down his face.  
"Uh, Sir, that's…that's not your bedroom," he spoke nervously. When Praxis stared at him stupidly, he continued, "That's a broom cupboard."  
"What?" Praxis bluntly asked. He yanked the small door open and stared inside, his expression suggesting that he couldn't fathom what he was seeing. Shelves lined the tiny room, with cleaning products upon them. Various mops and brooms and a vacuum cleaner lay propped up against the walls. In the dead centre of the small room sat the Baron's large box. After Praxis failed to make a further comment on the situation, and since his confused expression had not left his face, the young Guard decided he'd best intervene.

"Your bedroom is on the one hundred and fiftieth floor, Sir," the Guard said, pointing meaningfully to the ceiling.  
"And…what floor is this?" Praxis asked.  
"…The third," the Guard hesitantly replied.  
"The one hundred and fifty-third?" Praxis chanced.  
"No, Sir…just _the third_," the Guard began to sweat.  
"Oh…the one hundred and third?" Praxis again chanced.  
"Uh, no, Sir, just the third. We're three floors from the ground here," he nervously laughed, awkwardly rubbing his cheek through a gap in his helmet. Praxis' brow furrowed and he spoke no more.

"Uh, maybe, with the wheelbarrow and all, the trip felt longer, so you mistakenly thought you'd traversed more floors than you did?" the Guard suggested, trying to lift the mood. "It's okay, it happens to all of us sometimes," he chuckled. Praxis remained unimpressed.  
"Fix it," he grumbled, barely audible.  
"Uhm, pardon me, what…was that, Sir?" the Guard asked, leaning in closer to the Baron. Praxis sucked in a huge breath.  
"_FIX IIIIIIIIIIIIIT_!" he bellowed at the Guard. Spit drenched the young man and there was enough force in the yell to knock him off of his feet. He sat up on the floor, his ears ringing. He rushed to collect himself; scrambling to his feet, he jumped into the broom cupboard and sunk his fingers into the cardboard, heaving it out. With a lot of struggling, he somehow negotiated it back into the wheelbarrow and began pushing it towards the nearby elevator, but Praxis stopped him and pointed threateningly towards the staircase instead. The young Guard did not dare protest.

Praxis followed behind the Guard, growling forebodingly. When the beefy leader felt too tired to go on (a single floor later) he settled himself into the wheelbarrow beside his large box. The young Krimzon Guard wondered what he'd done to deserve such punishment.

One hundred and forty-seven floors later, the Guard had apparently reached their destination. He prodded Praxis awake, just before collapsing on the floor, struggling to breathe. Praxis woke up from his nap and groggily surveyed the area.

"Ah, we're here!" he declared happily. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it, Olly?" he cheered, staring down at the decrepit guard. Olly could only groan back. When Praxis clambered out of the wheelbarrow, he unceremoniously stood on Olly, and a sickening crack echoed down the hallway. Ashelin, who was in her bedroom down the hall, felt her ears prick up. A crack that _sickening _could only be caused by Praxis' ill doings.

"Father, what's going on here?" Ashelin asked, strolling towards her father. She noticed the large wheelbarrow and frowned. This could not be good. "What are you doing to that poor guard?" she indicated towards the crumpled body under Praxis' foot. Praxis seemed to suddenly realize that he was standing on one of his beloved guards and hastily got off him, giggling sheepishly.

"What have you done to him?" Ashelin enquired suspiciously, eyeing the Guard.  
"Who, _him_?" Praxis indicated to Olly. "Oh, he's fine! You know, he came to me a few weeks ago, asking for a pay rise. Being the ruthless Baron that I am, I _refused _to give him one. Then he began babbling that he'd take an extra shift for second pay. But I was all like _oh no, I know YOUR plan_," Praxis tapped his noes suggestively. Ashelin wondered where this story was going.

"So there I was today, being _escorted_ up the stairs by this guy, when it occurred to me! The answer to _all _of his problems," Praxis spoke mystically. "_I give him extra work_," he said with a big smile, "_For the SAME pay_. Genius isn't it?"

Ashelin was unsure how this was going to solve any problems at all, but she didn't care enough to voice her opinion. Instead, she let her eyes stray onto the large box. Her brow furrowed in suspicion.

"What's in the box?" she asked.  
"That's _Daddy's_ business," Praxis chuckled, waving her off.  
"Why does it have _Computer _written on it in big red letters?" Ashelin probed.

Praxis waddled over to the nearby door, apparently ignoring Ashelin's intrusive question. He produced a key chain from his pocket and began flipping through the various keys. Ashelin wondered what he was intending to unlock, as his bedroom didn't _have _a keyhole.

"Ah, here it is," Praxis declared happily when he'd selected the correct key. He stabbed the door in several places with the key and then, without hesitation, he skewered it into a random spot in the wood and began to twist it around violently. Wood and paint shavings were grated out of the door and sprinkled on the carpet below. "Ah, come on!" Praxis bellowed when he realised this wasn't working. He forced the key in deeper, gyrating his wrist like crazy. Angry growls and snarls where wafting out his throat and sweat was beginning to dribble down his face. Whenever it occurred to him that the plan wasn't working, he would simply remove the key and impale it into a new spot. Clearly he was making a complete mess of the door. Eventually Erol heard the commotion, so he came to investigate.

"Sir, what are you doing?" he asked, eyeing the destruction that the Baron had just created.  
"Not _now, _Commander," Praxis grunted angrily. "I'm trying to open my bedroom door," he snarled, his eye fixated determinedly on the hole he was creating.  
"But Sir, this is _my _bedroom," Erol bluntly said. Praxis immediately ceased. He left the key impaled in place and turned his head to stare at Erol. The Commander was hanging halfway out of the gap between the now opened door that the Baron had just been assaulting, and its door frame. Praxis seemed to take a moment to register all this, and then began to chuckle apologetically. How he'd gotten the wrong room after so many years of living in the Palace was beyond anyone's realm of understanding.

"No _wonder_ the key wouldn't work," Praxis chuckled, rolling his eye. Ashelin and Erol exchanged nervous glances. Praxis managed to negotiate the key out of Erol's door, damaging it further in the process, then waddled off to another door. "Here we are," he declared merrily. He was about to jam the key into this door, when Ashelin stood in front of him defensively.

"This is _my _room," she warned. Praxis again chuckled apologetically, making hand gestures around his head that suggested he _knew _how stupid he'd been. The scene that followed this would've reminded anyone of a giant game of Pong. The Baron continued up the hallway, moving from side to side, brandishing his key. He was deterred away from every door by Erol and Ashelin. Finally Praxis wound up at the end of the hallway where he'd initially started, next to Erol's room. With some gentle encouragement, he was ushered slightly further down to his _own _bedroom door.

Erol and Ashelin stood back and watched. Praxis let out a war cry and then thrust that cursed key into the wood of his own door. He twisted it around once, causing a small circumference of destruction. Roaring once more, he extracted the key and, with his large boot, he kicked his bedroom door clean off its hinges. Erol and Ashelin winced as the door went flying into the Baron's room, crashes and bangs following it, as well as a random, small explosion that spewed out of the open doorway momentarily. Praxis watched all this with a bored expression, as though he witnessed this same trail of events each day. He then sighed contently, dusting his hands off.

"OLLY!" the Baron bellowed. The young Guard perked back to life and forced himself onto his feet, swaying to and thro ominously. He latched himself onto the large wheelbarrow and turned it around, pushing it towards the Baron's room. He managed to force the front of the wheelbarrow into the room, but midway, as the tray widened out, it got stuck and would go no further. Praxis' face scrunched up in grumpiness as he watched on.

"It won't go any more," Olly said feebly, still trying to force the wheelbarrow forwards. "I…I don't understand," the young man panted, "_Kleiver _manages to get through this door."  
"KLEIVER?!" Praxis suddenly roared. "You let _Kleiver_ into my room?" he accused angrily. Olly stopped trying to push the wheelbarrow and stared at Praxis fearfully.  
"Uh…_you_ let him into your room, last week. You wanted to brag to him about your napkin collection, remember?" Olly began to shake in his boots.  
"KLEIVER?!" Praxis bellowed, deaf to the sound of reason. He let out an angry howl and lurched towards Olly. Olly screamed and ran for his life, the Baron hot on his heels.

Erol and Ashelin were left alone to stare at each other and at the wheelbarrow in confusion. Praxis returned, alone and suddenly cheerful, several minutes later. When he spotted the wheelbarrow blocking his path, he said "Who left this pile of _garbage_ here?" and promptly used his large boot to kick the bottom of the barrow, sending it flying into his room. Praxis strolled in after it. It seemed to dawn on him what that 'garbage' had been once he saw it, surrounded by a radius of destruction, on his bedroom floor.

"AH! My package finally arrived," he declared merrily, clapping his hands together. Erol and Ashelin came into Praxis' room, just in time to see him violently clear a mountain of papers from his desk with the back of his hand. The papers spewed out all over the room, adding to the horrid mess around them.

The Baron managed to pry his box from the floor and put it up onto his desk. He contemplated the tedious task of using his fingernails on the sticky tape holding it closed for a moment, before unsheathing his sword instead. He began to hack at the cardboard violently with his large sword, splitting it in several places. He seemed to forget what he was doing midway through and began chanting 'die' as he 'gutted' the box, polystyrene packaging chips gushing out of the gaping holes in place of blood. When Praxis summoned Erol into battle, the Commander had no choice put to extract his pistol and fire a single shot at the box, hearing something shatter inside. Praxis then declared that their 'foe' was 'dead', and tore the box open the _correct_ way.

"This isn't my Meals on Wheels order," Praxis mused in bewilderment as he peered into the box.  
"What is it, Sir?" Erol asked, attempting to peer into the box. Praxis immediately shooed him away.  
"Oh Sweetie, I already _told you_. That's _Daddy's_ business!" Praxis chuckled at Erol. Erol looked rather disturbed at this response, as did Ashelin.  
"Okay then…" Erol said blankly, backing away from Praxis. "Ashelin, I think your father is getting worse," Erol whispered once he came into the proximity of Ashelin.  
"It'll only get more horrific as the day progresses," she nodded with dread.

Praxis heard these _strange, faceless _voices behind him, and became lured into a sense of insecurity. The room fell deafly silent. Praxis gripped his box protectively; he occasionally glanced over his shoulder at Erol and Ashelin, only for his eye to quickly dart back to staring at his box with paranoia. His breathing became erratic and his back became drenched with sweat. He hunched further over his box. Ashelin briefly wondered whether he was having a heart attack.

"So, are you going to tell us what you're up to, Father?" Ashelin chose to ask after this long pause.  
"No, no…" Praxis began to grumble under his breath. "NOOOOOOOOO!" he then bellowed, swivelling around. His expression was a look of raging insanity. "GET OUT!" he roared at Erol and Ashelin, advancing on them with his arms in the air, "GO BUY YOUR OWN AUTOMATED, MAGIC, MANUAL, ROBOT MACHINE!"

Erol and Ashelin both let out noises of panic and fled from the room. Nothing could express their gratefulness when the Baron's bedroom door was thrown across the room and slammed (neatly in place) behind them, as opposed to Praxis chasing after them.

"What was _that _about?" Erol asked. Before Ashelin could get past her absurd look of fear to respond, the two of them were alerted to Praxis' closed door. The tip of that small key from earlier was protruding from the wood, jiggling around violently.

"Come on, come _on_," Praxis was helplessly whining through the door.

* * *

"But no one would come to save Baron Praxis, for he was already lost. He would never be let out again, for he was the prisoner…of Swan Lake."

"DAXTER! Are you telling those fairy tales again?" Torn yelled as he barged into the Underground, carrying several grocery bags. "How many times have I told you, you _can't _kidnap other people's children, let alone _bring them here_," Torn ranted.

"And how many times have I told _you_, I haven't kidnapped them, I'm babysitting them, _for pay_," Daxter argued, pointing angrily at Torn as he dropped his grocery shopping on the large round table.

"Who, on this entire _planet, _would leave their kid with you?" Torn scoffed.  
"Well, _Damas _for one," Daxter said smugly. "Besides, it's _your _face on the flier," he extracted a flier advertising 'his' babysitting services.  
"_What?_" Torn barked, striding across the room. He yanked the paper out of Daxter's hand. A picture of himself (clearly photoshoped as he was _actually _smiling) stared back at him, under the heading 'Torn's Baby Den! Bring your brats to the Underground'.

"_Daxter_," Torn snarled trough gritted teeth.  
"Chill, Torn, it's cool," Daxter shrugged.  
"_Chill_? You want me to _CHILL?_" Torn raved. "This place is supposed to be secret! And here you are, advertising to the world where it is! Why can't you take care of these kids elsewhere? You know how much I hate kids!" he ranted.  
"Prrrp, everyone already _knows _where your secret club is," Daxter waved him off uncaringly. Torn struggled to contain his anger; he did not want to manifest into something resembling the Baron in front of those children.  
"Well, if _that's_ the case, how long do you think it'll be before Erol or Veger see this flier of yours and decide to bring _Praxis_ here? Huh? Answer me that, _Einstein_!" Torn growled, waving his arms around dramatically.  
"Yeah, like _that _would ever happen. I think you're losing your grip on reality, Torn," Daxter grinned and rolled his eyes.  
"_I'm _losing my grip on reality? _You're _the one who sits around all day telling fairy tales to children. And on that note, _why _do you include the Baron in every single one of those stories?" Torn asked angrily.  
"I find that the addition of Praxis into a story can do wonders," Daxter shrugged, "Just look at what it did for that poor sap Jak."  
"You shouldn't be glorifying the Baron! How are we supposed to raise a generation of youngsters into Praxis hating adults, if you go around painting him like a princess?" Torn yelled. "GET OUT! I WANT THEM OUT!" he screamed, pointing at Daxter and then to the cluster of small children.  
"Fine," Daxter sighed in annoyance, "I'll take them to _Krew's _joint instead. Come on you little punks, let's go."

Torn watched with his arms crossed, as Daxter lead the children up the stairs and out of the large Underground door. When finally he was alone, he relaxed. Nothing was better to him than a peaceful, empty Underground.

Suddenly Jak wandered in out of nowhere.  
"Hey…wasn't this story about Baron Praxis getting a computer, or _something_?" he posed confusedly.  
"DAMN IT!" Torn barked.

* * *

Somehow, Praxis had managed to set up his computer. It was humming away pleasantly while small icons slowly loaded up on the lush blue screen. Praxis began jabbing his beefy fingers into various keys on the keyboard, and began randomly clicking the mouse, trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing. When a message popped up on the screen stating that he'd just sent several hundred files to the 'recycle bin', Praxis became enraged. He furiously stated that he'd vowed to _never _recycle in his life and that he'd now been violated.

Erol, who really wanted no part of it at all, suddenly heard his name being roared from down the hallway. Sighing, he clambered off his bed, tossing his racing magazine aside.

"What is it, Sir?" he asked unenthusiastically as he strolled into Praxis' room. The sight of the computer, newly set up, met Erol's eyes and he quirked an eyebrow.  
"What am I doing?" Praxis whined pathetically.  
"Apparently you're using your new computer, Sir," Erol said bluntly.  
"Ah, of course!" and with that, Praxis suddenly became a 'pro' at using the computer. He was touch-typing like a well-seasoned secretary, checking his emails like a popular businessman, organizing his files like a filing machine, and arguing with stupid teenagers on Twitter like a stupid teenager. Oh yes, he was such a pro. Erol watched on in the background, wondering whether he should be concerned or not. When a message popped up, alerting Praxis to the fact that he didn't have enough room on his hard drive for his six billionth illegal Spice Girls download, he growled irritably.

"I suppose sacrifices _must _be made," Praxis sighed. Erol naturally assumed that the Baron was going to forgo his download and tell it to cancel. On the contrary, Erol watched on as Praxis negotiated his way into a folder named "City Network Systems". Several importantly named icons and folders loaded up. A sensation of dread washed over Erol. Just where had Praxis got this computer?

"Hmmm, let's see…" the Baron mused as his eye rolled over each icon, "Water Systems, Power Grid, B-Zone Power Grid, Sewerage System, Sewerage Security System, Eco Grid." Erol felt very uncomfortable as Praxis read these things aloud. This computer, it seemed to host some mighty important files. Before Erol had time to find out that Praxis had bullied Vin into forking over the mainframe computer, Praxis was already well along the path of causing something disastrous.

"Ah! Here we go, _Shield Wall!_ That sounds useless enough!" Praxis declared after a moment longer of reading.  
"Wait…Sir, what are you-" Erol spoke up, rushing over to Praxis. It was too late. By the time Erol had reached the desk, a message had already appeared on the screen; 'Shield Wall terminated' it read. Erol's blood ran cold. A siren suddenly buzzed into action outside and red lights began flashing. The sound of people screaming echoed up from the ground below.

"Ashelin," Erol called hesitantly, "You'd better get in here."

Praxis was oblivious to the horror he'd just plunged his own city into. He merrily cheered as his Spice Girl's download recommenced.

* * *

"Say, how do you suppose they get the caramel inside?" Sig asked, his mouth full of chocolate as he inspected the innards of his Mars Bar.  
"I have no idea," Jinx replied bluntly. "Listen, do you think you could concentrate on the problem at hand?" he posed.  
"I thought I _was _doing that," Sig glared meaningfully, waving his spare hand towards his chocolate bar.  
"Oh, so that deadly siren or those treacherous red lights mean nothing to you?" Jinx spat. "I wish this thing would go faster," he pushed his foot further down on the zoomer car's accelerator and began swerving around the traffic, trying to block out the screams for help below them.  
"Hold up, _forget _the caramel, how do they coat this sucker in chocolate in the first place?" Sig wondered aloud enthusiastically.  
"I don't know, I don't know, _I don't know_!" Jinx screamed. Without warning he grabbed Sig's Mars Bar and hurled it out of the moving zoomer.  
"NO! MY CANDY!" Sig bellowed. He watched in horror as the Mars Bar flew through the air, splattering on the helmet of an unsuspecting Krimzon Guard who was travelling on a Cruiser behind them.

"What the?" the Guard yelped in shock. He began to swerve around all over the place before finally smashing into a nearby wall where his Cruiser exploded. Jinx burst out laughing when he witnessed this in his side view mirror.

"Ha, that was _classic!_" he laughed, slapping his palm onto the dashboard. Sig was far less impressed.  
"How could you do that to me? I spent two bucks on that thing!" he yelled.  
"Yeah, yeah, I'll buy you a new one tomorrow when all this mess is sorted," Jinx rolled his eyes, indicating to all the havoc below them.  
"No, you'll buy me a new one _right now_," Sig declared. Before Jinx could voice his concerns about this plan, Sig had already taken control over the zoomer via the second steering wheel on his side. He chucked a U-Turn and went flying off back the way they came, in the wrong hover lane.

"You're gonna kill us all!" Jinx screamed.  
"Like hell I am!" Sig roared back over the honking of zoomer horns. Sig's crazy driving, grouped with the almost certain impending metalhead attack, left Jinx very shaken. He had to think fast, lest they never reach safe haven at the Underground.

"Uh, uh… Torn has a vending machine in the Underground!" Jinx lied. Sig slammed on the brakes immediately.  
"You better not be pulling my leg, turkey!" the Wastelander warned as he did another U-Turn.  
"No, no, of course not!" Jinx stuttered. Satisfied that he wasn't being told any fables, Sig slammed his large foot on the accelerator and drove like a lunatic towards the Slums.

* * *

Erol had been forced to leave the Baron's side momentarily, when Ashelin did not respond to his calls for help. In the brief period in which Erol was gone, Praxis' damage bill had escalated.

"Virus…virus…virus…super virus…Ashelin virus…" Praxis was muttering to himself as he clicked his finger on the delete button, eradicating countless documents and programs off the computer, "Healthcare virus…Spyware Security virus…Rampage Alert virus…Documents and Settings virus…Calculator virus…MS Paint virus."

"Oh dear lord, what have you done?" Erol cried when he rushed back into the room, Ashelin at his side.  
"Why did you leave him alone?" Ashelin screamed at Erol.  
"I left him with an hour long documentary of the Spice Girls on Youtube, I didn't think he would stop watching it!" Erol yelled back in defence.  
"Oh that? It had to buffer," Praxis chipped in, still casually deleting things left right and centre.  
"What do we do?" Erol asked, turning to face Ashelin, hungry for answers.  
"How should I know? Our best bet is to retrieve Vin," she responded with a shrug.

"Good idea," Erol nodded; he turned and rushed towards the door. Just as he passed the threshold, he heard Praxis say 'Power Grid virus' and suddenly there was a loud clicking noise and all the lights turned off. The whir of Praxis' computer disappeared, as did the comforting buzz of electricity through the Palace.

"What happened?" Erol asked, sticking his head back through the door. When he saw the black screen on Praxis' computer, he decided he longer needed to ask. The only light in the room was coming from the window. Sunlight, mingled with purple and red flashes. The siren down below suddenly seemed even eerier.

"This computer stinks," Praxis pouted, unimpressed with the lack of life in the machine. He kept jabbing his finger into the on switch, as though not realizing that he'd just terminated the electricity grid. "I'm bored," he moaned when he realized the computer was not going to come back on.

Praxis got to his feet, a pout cemented on his face as he waddled towards the door. There was only _one thing _that could cheer him up now.

…

"What do you mean there's no food?"  
"Jak, I just _bought _some food, why don't you try looking in the fridge instead of the furnace?"  
"Oh, sorry," Jak apologized, as he took his head out of the inactive furnace, closing its door as he did so. "I'm still new to this whole _civilization_ thing," he admitted sheepishly, moving towards the fridge.  
"You've been here two years, _at least_," Torn rolled his eyes.

Jak seemed to ignore him, pilfering through the fridge. The sound of packaging being ruffled and jars being clinked together was all Torn heard.

"Well, seeing as how you're the first one in the fridge, I guess I'd better go shopping again," Torn growled, strolling across the room to retrieve his zoomer keys.

"Okay, be back soon," Jak called happily, pulling several articles of food from the fridge and stacking them up in his arms. Torn was heading up the stairway as Jak carried the food over to the planning table. "I'm gonna make the most _hardcore_ sandwich this city's ever seen," he declared. He was busy slathering the first slice of bread with mayonnaise, when Torn reached the top of the stairs. The Underground leader waited silently, though with a sense of impatience for the large door to open. As soon as it opened a mere slither, a sickeningly loud siren whirred into the Underground.

"What the hell?" Torn barked, forcing the door open faster with his hand. He stuck his head out and heard the sound of screaming, and noticed the flashing danger lights. "What's going on out here?" he turned back to Jak, who had looked up from a freshly opened (and now empty) packet of ham. "What did you do?" Torn screamed, charging back down the stairs as the large door closed itself again.

"I didn't do anything, Torn," Jak frowned, perturbed that he was automatically blamed for this sort of thing. "Maybe it was Praxis," he shrugged.  
"No, there's a _different _siren for Praxis," Torn mused.  
"Well, maybe dad's been inspired to launch another attack?" Jak offered. Before Torn could respond, Samos stirred from his nap. The sound of the siren had obviously woken him.

"Oh no," the old Sage gasped, levitating off of his bunk bed. "It's the fuzz!" he exclaimed with panic. "Quick, we _must_ hide the evidence!" he then declared. He raced around the Underground and gathered several of his potted plants in his arms. Torn and Jak watched speechlessly as Samos barged into the Underground bathroom. Tess, who had been in there applying her makeup, screamed and rushed out. She stood in the doorway and watched on as Samos began flushing the contents of his plant pots down the toilet.

"O…kay," Torn said.  
"What was he growing in those pots?" Jak asked.  
"Last time I checked they were petunias," Tess answered.  
"Are petunias illegal in this city?" Jak posed.  
"I don't have time to be standing around watching this," Torn indicated impatiently towards the bathroom and Samos, "I've gotta find out what's going on out there." He turned and began to march up the stairs again, loading his pistol on the way up. Just as he reached the landing, Samos was suddenly in his face.

"And just _where_ do you think you're going? You're not going anywhere," Samos warned, blocking Torn's way with arms outstretched.  
"What? Why not?" Torn yelled angrily. "Outta my way old man," he demanded.  
"If no one leaves, then the fuzz won't know we're home," Samos explained huffily.  
"What? There's no _fuzz _out there," Torn protested. Just as he said this, the door opened a crack of the way and Daxter clawed his way in. He tumbled down the stairs, clearly out of breath and shaken.

"Oh, I guess there _was _some fuzz out there," Jak said blankly, strolling over to Daxter and scooping him up.  
"Uh, I don't think that's the kind of _fuzz_ Samos is talking about," Tess replied awkwardly.  
"What other kind _is_ there?" Jak asked.  
"The _police, _Jak," Daxter moaned, rolling his eyes.  
"You mean the Krimzon Guards?" Jak posed, "Why do they care about Samos' petunias?"  
"I have no idea _what_ you're talking about," Daxter replied.  
"Would you two shut up?" Torn barked. "What's going on out there, Daxter? What the hell did you do?"  
"ME? I didn't do anything!" Daxter yelled, perking up in Jak's arms.  
"Then what's going on out there?" Torn growled.  
"I dunno, the shield wall is down or something. I just got caught in the chaos. Do you know how many people nearly stood on me?" Daxter panned the room for some sympathy, but found none. Everyone seemed far more concerned with the 'shield wall is down' part of his response. Jak was particularly emotive.  
"What the hell is a _shied wall_?" he gaped, looking severely perplexed. Several exasperated groans filled the room and people began shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.  
"I've told you a _thousand _times!" Torn snarled at Jak.

Suddenly there was loud banging on the Underground door.

"Who could that be?" Jak asked, "Isn't everyone already here?"  
"Oh yeah, _all _of my agents are here, Jak. An old man, a _rat _and an _idiot_. That's _all _the Underground has to offer," Torn raved sarcastically. "I'm gonna open the door," he then stated, heading up the stairs. Samos levitated in front of him again.  
"Oh no you're not!" the old Sage glowered, brandishing his staff around. "There's no way you're opening that door. It's the fuzz," he declared. "WHAT? I keep telling you-" Torn began, but the loud banging made him stop.

"Open up!" a deep and powerful voice called through the cement. "I know what you got in there! Don't make me take it by force," it threatened.  
"Wow," Tess said, "It really _is _the police."  
"Yeah, and they really _are _after Samos' petunias," Jak added.  
"It is not!" Torn yelled.  
"It is too! The vote's already been cast, three against four, it's the fuzz," Samos declared snootily. "Now, let's do the vote as to whether or not we let them in. As the leader of the Underground, my vote counts five times, so I've already won," he continued.  
"What? You're not the leader of the Underground!" Torn protested.  
"I'm The Shadow," Samos glared back.  
"No, you _were _The Shadow. Not anymore," Torn argued.  
"Open this door or I'll break it!" the voice commanded.  
"Do your worst! We've nothing to hide! We can take it _PoPo_," Samos taunted confidently, though as he was yelling this he was levitating around the room and gathering more pot plants, dispersing them amongst Jak and Tess with instructions to flush them.

"This is ridiculous!" Torn yelled in frustration, watching Samos.  
"_I know_. How come we can't hear the danger sirens in here but we can hear some dude yelling through the concrete? It's madness," Daxter pointed out.  
"Open this door, Torn!" the voice yelled. While Samos was distracted searching for his final pot plant, Torn did just as the voice requested. He marched up the stairs and pulled it open.  
"NO!" Samos yelled, "I'm too old for the big house!"  
"It's not the police!" Torn yelled one last time as he moved out the way for Sig and Jynx to rush into the Underground. The door was hastily shut behind them.  
"You'll never take me alive, _fuzz_!" Samos spat at Sig.  
"Fuzz?" Sig lolled over this briefly. "I ain't no _cherry-top_!" he then yelled defensively. Unconvinced, Samos armed himself with a rolling pin and huddled himself in the furthest corner, daring anyone to try and come over with handcuffs.

"Sig, what's going on out there?" Torn asked exasperatedly.  
"Where's the vending machine?" Sig demanded. Before Torn could get past his confusion to utter anything at all, Jinx rushed over.  
"It's horrible, apparently that stupid Baron got rid of the Shield Wall, now there's metal heads attacking. Thankfully we didn't run into any," he said, lighting up a cigarette. Sig had become even angrier in the background.  
"Where's the vending machine? Have you been jivin' me, cherry?" he yelled at Jinx. Jinx rolled his eyes while Sig wasn't watching and circled his finger in the air around his ear as though suggesting Sig had lost the plot. Samos fell asleep in the background briefly, and when the sound of Sig yelling woke him up, he quickly floated over.

"Sig! Thank the _Precursors_ you're here," Samos said. "With you, we'll be able to hold off the PoPo advance," he explained, placing an aged hand on Sig's shoulder. "They're after my petunia's you know," he spoke gravely.  
"Yeah, I've been meaning to ask about that," Jak piped up from across the room, still juggling six pot plants in his arms. "Why _are _these things so…uh…_interesting _to the Krimzon Guards?" he asked, lifting the contents in his arms slightly.  
"Because, I busted them out of jail, _Jak_," Samos rolled his eyes as though it were obvious.  
"Are you…serious?" Jak asked.  
"But…they're plants," Tess added.  
"Exactly!" Samos barked. "They were doing time in one of the cells when I was thrown in there last Christmas," he explained.  
"Last…Christmas…?" Jak posed.  
"You mean they were _growing_ in one of the cells?" Tess looked around confusedly.  
"I've had it with these arse-about questions!" Torn yelled. "You guys stay here, I'm gonna go check this out," he stormed up the stairs. Once Torn was outside, Jak immediately dropped his pot plants and the majority of them cracked as they hit the floor, spewing dirt out everywhere.

"Well, I'm going back to my sandwich," he declared. In the time space of five minutes, Jak had nearly reached the ceiling with his giant sandwich escapade. Suddenly he heard screaming coming from outside. The screaming was soon accompanied by desperate hammering on the Underground door.

"For the love of God! Let me in! Oh no! NO! It burns! My…ah! MY EYES!" Torn was screaming. "Let me in or I'm gonna die!" he bellowed, his banging on the door growing more erratic. Torn was certainly done for at this rate. Thankfully Samos appeared at the scene of the crime. He floated out of the bathroom (a green smog cloud following him) and surveyed the situation.

"What's all this racket, you nincompoops?" the old Sage sighed angrily. "Can't an old man take a peaceful nap in peace?" he questioned accusingly.  
"I thought you were you using the John?" Sig posed.  
"At my age it's the same thing," Samos barked aggressively, looking Sig up and down a few times.  
"Hey, that sounds like Torn," Tess suggested suddenly. Daxter looked perturbed that she'd stopped rubbing his ears. "We should let him in," she said, getting up.  
"No, no! It might be the cops," Samos said. Everything fell silent. To anyone with a brain worth its salt, it was _clearly _Torn out there. Still, no one dared question Samos.

"So…_is it _the fuzz?" Jak asked after a while of silence.  
"Hmmm, no," Samos deliberated. "_This one_ sounds like a _salesman_," he mused. He wafted up the stairs and allowed the door to open. He blocked entry with his wooden staff, so Torn couldn't get in.  
"We don't want anything you're selling! Now _kindly_ go home before I send the rocks after you!" Samos bellowed. He then slammed the door shut…with Torn's wrist caught in it.  
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" Torn screamed.  
"You sure told _him_, Samos," Jak declared proudly, as Samos levitated past him towards the bathroom.  
"Yes my boy, I suppose I did," the old Sage agreed.

Torn's wrist writhed around animatedly for a while, before he finally managed to open the door with it, pulling himself in. He rolled down the stairs groaning all the while, and then lay in a crumpled heap on the floor. "You _morons_," he hissed, before passing out. Before Tess could rush over to investigate Torn's condition, the bathroom door slammed open and Samos floated out again.

"What's going on now?" the Sage yelled. "I'm so sick of you kids. All you ever— what on the Precursor's green earth is _that_?" he floated over to Torn. After prodding Torn several times with his staff and coaxing just as many anguished groans from the body, Samos came to a startling revelation.  
"He's dead," he said solemnly. Tess and Jak gasped, Sig uttered a curse and Daxter fell strangely silent. Jinx shrugged his shoulders and said "meh".  
"I am not…" Torn croaked.

"Well, we can't have his body stinking up the place," Samos mentioned casually. "Besides, it might attract unwanted attention from the 5-0," he added. "Jak, Sig, Jinx! Grab a shovel," Samos demanded. There was general unease as this order was issued. The three men in question did not seem to know how to react. They only did as they were told when Samos followed his command through with the violent waving of his staff (newly equipped with a roll of toilet paper on its end).

"What the hell is this?" Sig yelled, wiping sweat, cement dust and dirt from his face fifteen minutes later. "Why'd you have to light the furnace while we're doing this?" he asked, as Samos hurled another log into the fire.  
"Are you questioning my sanity? What, an _old man_ can't feel cold when he sees younger men doing the work he's incapable of?" Samos glowered at Sig. "That's enough, anyway, it's plenty deep," he waved his staff nonchalantly.  
"Um, I've been meaning to ask," Jak spoke. "Why are we digging the hole _here,_ of all places?" he asked. Samos turned a bewildered, yet exasperated expression his way.  
"Because, we can't take him out _there_," Samos declared.  
"Yeah Jak, the metal heads," Daxter added.  
"No, not the metal heads," Samos mocked, "The fuzz." Everyone in the room, bar Jak, groaned, rolled their eyes, shook their heads and massaged their foreheads.

Fifteen minutes later, Torn's coffin (a sturdy, rectangular cardboard box) was lowered into the pathetically shallow hole in the middle of the Underground. Samos strangled everyone near to death when he dressed them all in bow ties. He even stuffed himself into a snazzy little tuxedo. He then took the podium, which had spawned from seemingly nowhere. He cleared his throat and shuffled his palm cards.

"Torn was a _good _man. He was a _fine _leader. He was a caring and compassionate friend. His imagination was a wide expansion of a field – one inch by one inch. He was a wonderful father, to the children he never _bothered_ to procreate. Every time he spoke it was a wonderful day. His favourite words were _idiot, moron, imbecile, dunderhead, hell, damn, kill, shoot, stab, old man, rat, Baron, Jak, get out of, my _and_ fridge," _Samos paused to wipe a stray tear from his eye. "Oh, how I wish I could still hear his _beautiful _dulcet tones," Samos sighed, shaking his head mournfully.

"Well then open the damn box you _moron_!" a disembodied, agro, gruff voice called from seemingly nowhere.

"What is that _horrible _noise?" Samos gawked disgustedly. "Oh well, I'm sure it's just Jak's sandwich air getting to us," he indicated towards Jak's tall, still unfinished sandwich. Sig was given the job of filling the small hole back in, and it turned out in the end that the box was too tall for it anyway, the top of it poking out ominously. Worse still, Torn continued to rant and yell angrily from within, causing many headaches.

As the funeral precession came to an end, Jak suddenly burst into tears and draped himself over Jinx. Jinx tried to push Jak away to distance himself, but failed. The smoker suddenly wished he wasn't there. He then had a brilliant idea; _he'd just __**leave**_. So, shoving Jak off of him forcefully and toting words such as 'see you suckers later', Jinx headed out the Underground door.

Fifteen minutes later, the scene was not pretty.

"Why the hell couldn't he have just died earlier? I'd packed up my podium and _everything_!" Samos ranted as he sorted his palm cards. He cleared his throat and began to read, "Jinx was the _seediest_ man I knew, and _I_ once knew a man named _Jinx,_" Samos paused, as though wanting this information to truly sink in. "He smoked twenty packs of cigarettes a day, and often woke me up in the middle of the night coughing. He was pungent, and infected all the furniture in the Underground with his stink. I was always surprised that he hadn't died sooner. I once held a bet with Daxter that Jinx would drop dead any day now, but then I remembered that I didn't like Daxter, so I called the bet off. It pains me, because I would've been twenty dollars richer, had I _not_ called it off," Samos glared meaningfully at Daxter. The Sage still wanted him to pay up.

"This isn't a very flattering eulogy…" Tess interjected. Samos merely shrugged and threw the rest of his palm cards over his shoulder.  
"Jinx wasn't a very flattering man," he sighed simply. He tore off his tuxedo and his pot belly came bounding out dramatically. The old Sage then levitated off to the side of the room, where he continued to sell Torn's possessions on eBay. Sig was left to cover a meagre layer of dirt over Jinx's large cardboard-box coffin, which had been placed neatly next to Torn's. Jak again burst into tears, slipping to the floor where he pounded his fist into the ground over and over again, screaming 'why'. Daxter took the liberty of responding to Jak's question, offering that Jinx had "died" because he, Jak, had not opened the door for him fast enough. It was only after Sig had 'filled' the grave did Jak stop bawling his eyes out.

"Glad _that's _over," he said abruptly, ripping his tie off and throwing it across the room. He stood up, dusted his clothes off and then casually strolled back to the fridge, where he began slathering layers of food onto his abysmal sandwich again. He was just spreading an inch think serving of spreadable tuna onto a slice of bread, when suddenly he had an epiphany.

"What the hell am I standing around making _this _for?" Jak indicated to his large sandwich, a look of bewilderment coming over his face. "I should be out there, saving the city from the metal heads!" he declared. "Get outta here!" he yelled at his sandwich, back-handing it out of the way as if it were _its _fault that Jak had been neglecting his hero duties.

"Go get 'em, Cherry!" Sig called after Jak.

Damas was very unimpressed when Samos rang him up five minutes later, spewing _lies _that his beloved Jak had perished. Completely against the mere suggestion that _his _Jak could die at all, let alone on a _Wednesday_ _afternoon_, Damas had arrived at the Underground, Kleiver loyally at his side, to knock some sense into Samos. Keira arrived shortly there after, her face stuck inside a giant handkerchief as she sobbed uncontrollably.

Alas, it seemed that the old Sage had not been lying to Damas. Jak was to be buried, very nobly, within the cardboard box that the fridge had been purchased in.

"Hey, it smells kinda funny in here…" a strange voice wafted out of the box as Sig sticky-taped it up.  
"I'm telling you man, he ain't dead in there," Sig gawked at Samos. Samos waved him off.  
"Of course he is. He went outside, the _fuzz_ got him," Samos rolled his eyes. "You _never _listen to old Samos, do you?" he chastised.  
"The _metal heads_ got him," Sig corrected, "And I'm telling you, I can hear him yelli-" Sig tried to argue.  
"Oh, that's just Kleiver's body odour getting to us," Samos declared.

Samos solemnly took the podium once more.

"Jak was a wonderful hero. He saved the entire world, and somehow destroyed half of it too. He was a considerate friend, who always cared for Daxter. Personally, I could never bring myself to fathom this flaw of Jak's," Samos trailed off temporarily. "Jak would always rush to one's aid when they were in danger, though not before crashing six different zoomers on his way to their location. The point was, he got there eventually, except for that one time when I invited him to my Birthday party and he never showed up. How I _loathed _him that day. Rest in _hell_, backstabber!" Samos yelled at Jak's 'coffin', memories of that lonely birthday floating back to him.

"Daddy! Jak was saving the world on your Birthday that year!" Keira protested, still in tears.  
"What, he couldn't at least send a telegram?" Samos argued back defensively.  
"What the hell is a _telegram_?" Jak asked from the hole.  
"You stay out of this!" Samos bellowed back.

As the hole was once again filled up (with Torn and Jinx screaming slurred and muffled abuse), Daxter watched on despondently.

"I…I can't live in a world without Jak!" Daxter sobbed. "I gotta go see Tess," he declared distraughtly, rushing up the stairs.  
"But Daxter, I'm right _here_," Tess called after him.

The screams and shrieks echoing from outside indicated that it was too late for Daxter. He had fallen victim to the chaos outside. His final resting place was a shoe box.

"Couldn't you have at least moved the spare shoe laces from here first?" the shoebox nagged, as it was lowered into the ever-expanding hole in the Underground floor.

"Daxter was an animal. I think just about everybody in this room hated him," Samos panned the room expectantly,_ daring _anyone to suggest otherwise. "He had many excuses. He left yellow hair all through the bathroom sink, clogging up the drains, and blamed Jak for it. He once sent me a Birthday card, six months after my Birthday, which called me an Old Fart, and then signed it from Jak, in a style that mimicked Jak's handwriting exactly. Daxter enjoyed the prospect of money. He worked only when he wanted money, and never when someone asked him to work _for _money. How I enjoyed beating him over the head with my staff. Good, _good _times," Samos stared off into space dreamily. When he refused to break out of this trance, it was decided that the funeral was over. Tess would not let it rest, sobbing uncontrollably all over Kleiver.

"My Daxter!" she wailed. Kleiver tried to side step away from Tess, but she followed him, stating that his awful smell allowed her to believe that things could be worse. Eventually Tess declared that she 'could not live like this' and ran out of the Underground door before anyone could stop her.

Her screams would haunt everyone. Especially Samos, who was growing tired of having to write and perform these speeches. What is this? An _oral exam_? Geez…

"Tess was a _fine_ girl," Samos began strongly. "She had many goals…" he paused to think this over briefly as his enthusiasm seemed to simmer down, "…revolving around no aims. She had only three loves in her life. These were Daxter, which I could _never _understand, Tess, and she liked Erol for like…_four minutes_, before Keira told her to back off." Samos' expression turned brooding for a moment. "I don't know _why _Keira liked Erol. She _never _liked Erol. She's supposed to like _Jak,_" the Sage's dark eyes landed ominously on Keira and he scowled. "YOU WILL _MARRY JAK_!" he demanded thunderously.  
"Father! How could you?" Keira screamed, angrily. "UGH! I've had _enough _of you!" she declared rebelliously, thrusting herself onto her feet. She stormed huffily up the Underground stairs.  
"Keira, no!" Samos yelled.

A sixth cardboard box had soon been added to the 'grave'. Torn had become especially agro now, warning that Samos had better not be wasting all of his boxes. He became even angrier when he found out that Erol and Veger had turned up at the Underground, stating they were looking for Praxis, who had randomly disappeared. Alas, they were forced to attend Samos' skewed little funeral, as the guests at these events were becoming scarce.

"Keira was a good girl," Samos began. He pondered his opener, "Except for when she was rebellious, which was _most of the time_," he glared spitefully. "She loved to tinker away in her garage, fixing things. I once asked her to fix my left sandal, but she said it wasn't broken, so I broke it, and then she said she _couldn't _fix it because it wasn't in her domain. She was a smart, loving girl…" Samos' eyes landed on Erol and he suddenly became enraged, "…a girl who betrayed me and married you!" he accused. A long, green, hairy finger pointed in Erol's direction, making him feel rather indignant.

"What? I never married your daughter!" Erol protested.  
"Daddy, I can't _believe_ you!" the grave chastised Samos. The old green Sage could take no more of this "baseless" anger directed his way.  
"I'M GOING TO MY ROOM!" he yelled at the top of his voice. He levitated over to the bathroom. Just before he slammed the door, he turned and pointed accusingly at everyone in the room. "I hope _all of you _are dumb enough to end up outside, and get done in by the fuzz," he declared. Mostly everyone groaned and rolled their eyes, saying 'not _this_ again'.

"Wait, so he thinks that the authorities are out there 'killing' anyone who leaves the Underground?" Veger posed confusedly.  
"We keep telling him it's the metal heads, but he won't listen," Sig shrugged.

Samos had been in the bathroom no longer than five minutes, when suddenly his voice could be heard, for some odd reason, outside.

"HELP! HELP YOU FOOLS! OPEN THE DOOR!" came his murderous screams as he pounded his fists against the door. The racket flooded into the Underground, confounding everyone as they tried to figure out how Samos had gone from being in the windowless, single-door bathroom, to suddenly being outside.  
"Somebody save Daddy!" Keira pleaded from her 'coffin' (the box Torn's work desk had come in). Deciding that he would have a chance with Keira if he rescued her belligerent little father, Erol sprung into action. He leapt from his chair and ran up the stairs and outside.

Fifteen minutes later, Veger found himself at the podium.

"Erol and Samos were good friends, except when they weren't, which was always," Veger stopped, scrunching his face up distastefully. "Who _wrote _this speech?" he questioned.  
"_I did_," Samos' voice boomed from the small toaster box. Veger wiped some sweat from his bold spot with a handkerchief and attempted the speech again.  
"Erol and Samos were good friends, except when they weren't, which was always. The two of them seemed to have so much in common, despite their differences. They both complained, they both hated Erol or Samos. That was all they had in common. I remember in the summer of 1823, I hired Erol to paint my fence," Veger quirked an eyebrow, wondering what Samos had been on when he'd written this speech. "I asked for fire engine green, but Erol said this colour didn't exist so I—wait, what are you doing?!" Veger screamed as Kleiver suddenly advanced on him.

Ten minutes later…

"Veger was a _horrible_ woman," Sig pondered for a moment, "She was a _chick_, right?" he asked. "Anyway, she was a _witch_. She always complained about everything, she thought she was the centre of the modern world, _and _she never listened to _anyone_. She even tried to kill my man, Jak! I hated Veger _so much_!" Sig growled angrily. "That's why it was _so good_ when Kleiver picked her up and threw her out of the Underground door midway through her eulogy to Samos and Erol! Ha, ha! HA! OH MAN IT WAS GOOD! Did you cherries see it?" he guffawed at the remaining guests. "Oh man! HAHAHAHAAAHAA!" he began to laugh uncontrollably, slamming his fist on the podium as tears streaked down his face. "I…I need air," he wheezed through his laughter some time later. He stumbled away from the podium and up the stairs, disappearing into the city. His laughter soon turned to screams and pleas of mercy.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT THING? NO! I DON'T WANNA DIE!" he shouted and shrieked.

Five minutes later, Kleiver was slouching against the podium, looking very impatient.

"Sig was a good bloke. I hated him personally, but either way…" Kleiver shrugged.

"Is that _all _you have to say about our cherished friend Sig?" Damas glared disappointedly at Kleiver.  
"Nyeh," Kleiver again shrugged.  
"Kleiver, I _demand _you head for the closest library to research the archives of Sig's achievements. Don't come back until you've written a speech _worth_ hearing!" Damas spat angrily, pointing at the Underground door. Kleiver rolled his eyes, scooped up his Barbie-printed notebook, and headed for the door, grumbling angrily under his breath.

Five minutes later…

"Damas was a good man, a _strong _man… But then he became an _awesome_ man, a _stupendously_ powerful man!" Damas bragged from the podium, soon breaking into a childish 'air guitar' solo due to his self proclaimed awesomeness.

Alone in the Underground (bar the many living people all arguing and screaming abuse back and forth in the large ditch in the centre of the room), Damas had been unsure what do to with himself, hence he'd taken to performing a speech about himself. He was annoyed when the sounds of Kleiver screaming outside permeated the thick walls. Just as everyone else had before him, Kleiver clawed his way back into the Underground and rolled down the stairs, clearly shaken and losing his grip on life. With sweat pouring down his face, he constantly resisted the urge to vomit.

"Burry me…under…a _nice_ tree," he begged Damas.

"Fine," Damas rolled his eyes. He grabbed Kleiver's sweaty body awkwardly under his arms and dragged him back outside. As soon as Damas took a step out of the Underground, the blaring siren hit his ears. The red and purple lights were still flashing, metal head corpses lined the alley way, as did passed-out guards and civilians. Despite all of this, something else caught Damas' eye.

Baron Praxis, clad only in his hot pink bikini, was right in front of the Underground door, dancing enthusiastically (though incredibly poorly). When Kleiver saw this sight he shrieked again and passed out dramatically.

"Shouldn't you be, oh I don't know, dealing with the metal head attack?" Damas sarcastically asked Praxis. Praxis scowled back at him.  
"Oh, I got sick of that thing _hours _ago," the Baron declared sassily. "I've been here, dancing, ever since. It's _far more _entertaining than cleaning up _that _mess, which might I add, _Vin _created," Praxis declared darkly.

"Uh-huh," was all Damas could say.

Somehow the Sand King was immune to the dancing Baron before him, but without a doubt _this _had been the 'dying' vision of all those 'buried' in the Underground right now. Damas shrugged and dragged Kleiver home.

Despite all the lewd, poorly explained character deaths, and the ever disturbing prospect of burying live people in Torn's living room, the most distressing part of this whole ordeal was neither of those things. _The most distressing part was much worse._

The metal heads _hadn't _been killing the main cast of this game franchise.

It had been _Praxis_.

And wasn't Praxis, _technically _the _fuzz_?

_Samos_, had been right all along.

May God have mercy on us all.


	31. My Big Fat Baron Wedding PT1

**Note: This chapter has been redone and new content has been added. The older version MAY appear on deviantArt.**

******Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog. Any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original and rightful owners.**

**Summary: Praxis has a bout of wedding fever and decides to find a suitable husband for Ashelin. **

* * *

**Palace Stories – We Exaggerate Weddings Now**

**My Big Fat Baron Wedding  
Part One**

**(Refurbished)**

* * *

Ever since Baron Praxis had been a little tyke, he had dreamt of his wedding day, just like alllittle girls did. Needless to say, his wedding to his estranged wife, much like his consequent marriage to Femaxis, had not gone particularly as he'd planned. You could rightly say that the whole ordeal had left him rather _bitter_. The mere mentioning of a wedding was likely to set him off on a crazed rampage. In fact, whenever he saw such a ceremony taking place in _his _city, he would steal Erol's fastest zoomer to crash the party at full speed (_and _Erol's zoomer) and tear it asunder. So many brides' dresses destroyed, so many oversized cakes eaten (in one bite). Recently, however, the inhabitants of the Palace had noticed Praxis was displaying a rather _different_ reaction to talk of weddings. It was confusing to everyone and particularly _disturbing _to a certain Ashelin.

"He's planning something…" she would fret to Erol and Veger.  
"Don't be foolish, Ashelin," they would say. "Surely Praxis does not plan on getting married. Who in their right mind would _have _him? Femaxis must've taught _every _woman on this planet a lesson when she made the mistake of marrying that oaf."

Their words were spoken with an air of mockery, making fun of her so-called "paranoia" but she knew better. Oh how she knew better. Eventually her woes were proven, as per usual, right. Praxis' rediscovered keen interest in weddings _was _something to fear.

"Don't worry, Sweetie," Praxis had beamed one night at the diner table. "Daddy will make sure you don't grow up to be a lonely cat lady."

Despite Ashelin trying to argue that she was already eyeing a particular man to call her slave (as well as having a little slice of _Jak _on the side), Praxis ignored her completely. The next day _fliers _appeared, slathered and nailed to walls all over the city. Ashelin nearly retched when she saw them.

"Is _this_ how low he thinks of me?" she raved, barging into Veger's room without proper invitation, crumpled-up flier in her hand.  
"Oh come now, Ashelin," Veger scoffed, "I have better things to worry about."  
Ashelin chose to ignore Veger. "_To give away,_" she began to read aloud from the flier in her hands. "_One young, free-range, McDonald's fed Son. No wait, I mean Daughter,_" she continued to read. "_Hair the colour of red flavoured jello. Not quite fat yet, but I'm working on it. In good, perhaps used, condition._"  
"It sounds like he's trying to sell an animal…or perhaps a zoomer," Veger interrupted, looking perplexed.  
"Exactly!" Ashelin yelled, "And it gets _worse_!" She continued to read, "_Enjoys__ shooting at bystanders for fun; bullying the guards under her watch; going for long, leisurely rampages; eating at McDonalds; and throwing her immense weight around._"  
"Did he start describing himself?" Veger wondered aloud.  
"_All interested will report to the Palace Throne Room on Saturday for auditions_. _The one deemed most worthy will be given the bill of sale and will receive their shipment in two to sixteen working days._" Ashelin let out an angry snarl after she'd finished reading Praxis' flier, resisting the urge to shred it to pieces.  
"Well," Verger sighed casually, "Sounds like you've got yourself into _quite _the pickle." He smirked, envisioning the prospect of Ashelin and Praxis taking each other out over this ordeal, resulting in him gaining control over the city. His daydream was interrupted by Ashelin, who, incapable of bottling up her rage any longer, had kicked over his work chair, and was now in the process of capsizing his desk and shredding all of his important papers. She went about the business of trashing several other pieces of furniture in his room, despite his desperate pleas for her to stop. When finally everything in her path was destroyed, she sighed contentedly.

"Ah," she dusted her hands off casually as she made for the door to leave, "I always love coming to your room when I'm angry. It _really _hits the spot after a cantankerous day's events."  
"You don't say…" Veger grumbled, wondering whether his room would ever be the same again.

* * *

Saturday rolled by with little hesitation. Ashelin spent most of the time until then locked up in her room, throwing darts at a portrait of her own father, all the while muttering darkly to herself. Needless to say she was not thrilled about the idea, though her spirits _did _lift a little when she saw the large group of men flocking to the Palace below, from her bedroom window.

Praxis in the meantime was in the Throne Room, teetering ominously on his little throne. Bret, the Krimzon Guard, was sweating. The Baron's eye was fixed on him intently, watching his every move, perhaps counting _every _bead of sweat that ran down the length of his face.

Why oh _why_, had he thought this was a good idea? Juggling five packaged Big Macs was surely an act that would impress and appease the Baron enough to relinquish his prized daughter, but Bret was now wondering whether the risk was worth it. He was beyond _certain _that the Baron would charge down those little stairs at any moment to consume his _performance_.

The fear of Praxis abruptly losing the plot became too much for Bret to bear, and he began to shake in his uniform boots. His hands became uncoordinated and he fumbled with the burgers in his hands. The _worst _happened within a split second. One of the burgers missed his grip and fell, dramatically colliding with the throne room floor. Thrown out of sync, Bret fumbled and dropped everything, four more burgers landing on the ground with a sickening thud. Praxis was instantly offended.

"NEXT!" the Baron bellowed. Bret let out a noise of panic, gathering up his five burgers in his arms. He made for the door, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him.

The next contender barged into the room in the form of an angry Torn. He waltzed up to the base of the stairs and glared angrily at the Baron. Praxis beamed back joyfully.

"And what will you be performing today, Torn?" Praxis asked casually.  
"Teaching your _fat ass_ a lesson!" Torn barked as he furiously flaunted his index finger towards the elevated Baron.  
"Ahh, _proceed_! I always wanted a proper education," Praxis declared happily, willingly leaning forwards in his seat. Torn had to stop for a moment to register the Baron's response. Needless to say it had thrown him off guard.  
"Uh…okay," he said. He began rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to find his rage once more. "Does Ashelin _know _you're doing this?" he barked.  
"Doing what?" the Baron shrugged.  
"Trying to marry her off to some _nobody_!" Torn raved. "Shouldn't it be _her choice _who she marries? Don't you think she _deserves _the right to choose her own husband? We're not talkin' about some yokel she'll have to speak to every now and then, we're talkin' about her soul mate, her lover, the father of her children, her-"  
"NEXT!" Praxis roared, growing bored of Torn.  
"But I—"  
"_NEXT!" _Praxis roared even louder, a wave of spit and McDonalds breath flowing from his mouth and hitting Torn with the velocity of a brick truck. He began to hack up his lungs, clutching his sides as he stumbled towards the door, halting on his way out to scream wanton death threats at the unfazed Baron.

Jak wafted into the room as smooth as Kleiver's bald spot, a large Coke in his hand.

"Ah, if it isn't my old friend _Jak_," Praxis welcomed him darkly. "What makes you think you're cut out to marry my _son_…uh…_daughter_?" he asked. Jak emitted no reply. Instead, a look of wide-eyed concentration came to his face. He took a long, loud, languid sip of his Coke. Praxis grew impatient, tapping his beefy fingertips on the armrest of his throne. Despite having all the time in the world, Praxis was a _very_ busy Baron. He had not the time for trivial matters such as this.

When Jak finally stopped sipping his Coke, he'd consumed nearly half of it, and a look, almost resembling horror, came over his features. His mouth parted ever so slightly, and a small trickle of drool emanated from it. Without any warning beyond this at all, Jak let out the most thunderous, disgusting belch that Praxis had ever heard someone (other than himself) create. The befuddled Baron watched on, speechless. After the belch ended a small tear of _joy_ trickled from the Baron's eye, and he began to clap enthusiastically.

"Tomm, Tomm!" Praxis called to the Guard standing (very uncomfortably and squished up) beside him. "Tomm, this boy is to go on the maybe list, _immediately_!" the Baron demanded.  
"Yes Sir," Tomm obeyed, jotting Jak's name down on a notepad in his hand.  
"You boy, _you _are the answer to _all _my bothersome problems!" Praxis praised Jak.

"What…?" Jak said, dumbfounded, "But I haven't performed my _audition_ yet."  
"NEXT!" Praxis bellowed, ignoring Jak.  
"I stayed up _all night _perfecting my ham-boning _symphony_!" Jak protested.  
"NEXT!" Praxis bellowed again.  
"Aww! What happened to you, man?! You used to be _cool_!" Jak whined, upset that he would be remembered for his belch performance, rather than his _intended_ performance.  
"The hell are you talkin' about? I'm still cool!" Praxis growled back defensively.  
"Nah man, _nah_," Jak shook his head. "You have aged like…a _billion _years in a single split second," he said disappointedly, "And do you _know _how many split seconds have just flown by with me talkin' right now?"

A look of fear came across the Baron's face; he began to glance around worriedly, fidgeting as he sweated. "Get out!" he suddenly yelled.  
"Awright, awright, Ima go…_chill_ dude." And with that, Jak backed out of the door, a wide-eyed yet somehow calm look on his face, as he threw his arms into the air.

Praxis ordered that there be a moment for him to recollect himself before the next contestant came in. He also ordered three Big Macs, ten large fries, a large milkshake and a McFlurry.

Sig was the next contestant. He stalked into the room looking proud and confident. "You _hard _yet?!" he asked aggressively as he advanced on the throne. He stopped just at the stairs and stared the Baron down. Praxis took a leisurely sip from his milkshake straw and ignored Sig's question.

"Well…uh…" Sig's nerve seemed to falter momentarily. He found it again rather quickly, "I think I should marry your daughter, because…I'll kick your fat ass into next week if I don't!"

Praxis screamed like a little girl and let go of his milkshake, letting it fall to the ground and tumble down his stairs, leaving an explosion of mess in its wake.

"You're hired!" Praxis yelled compliantly.  
"But Sir, you can't just uhm…_hire_ him like that," Tomm protested bravely.  
"You heard him, dude," Praxis whispered back fretfully, "He'll kick me into _the future_! You saw what _the future _did to that poor sap _Jak_!"  
"But Lord Baron, Sir, you're bigger than him," Tomm pointed down to Sig. "…Besides, you don't want your daughter to marry someone on _the good guy's side_," he sighed.  
"If he's on the good guy's side, then he's on _my_ side," Praxis responded confusedly.  
"Actually Sir…your side is…_the bad side_," Tomm tried to say this as gently as he could. Apparently he wasn't gentle enough, for Praxis became enraged.

"WHAT?! How _dare _you!" the Baron ranted angrily, standing up to tower over Tomm, his large form nearly pushing the small guard off the side of the steps. "You have failed me for the _last time_!" Praxis bellowed, grabbing the guard and holding him above his head.  
"But Sir, I only just started this job this morning!" Tomm tried to protest.  
"Yes! And when I sent you off to get my McDonalds this morning, you came back with an odd number of French fries!" Praxis bellowed back.  
"What, you actually _counted_ them?" Tomm shrieked. "How _could _you? You were eating them faster than the speed of light!"  
"NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEXT!" Praxis roared at the top of his voice, so loud that the room shook and vibrated. He pelted the squirming Tomm down the stairs (much in the fashion of Donkey Kong throwing a barrel) where he collided with Sig at such a force that the both of them flew out of the room.

Tomm was so scarred by the occurrence that he vowed to join the Underground to get back at Praxis, but when he went to apply, Torn turned him away. So now Tomm works at Taco Bell. He works at Taco Bell _just_ in time to coincide with Praxis' sudden love of Mexican food. Ah, how things eventually come full circle…

Back in the present tense, Praxis managed to recollect himself once more. He called for the next contestant and his calmed mood instantly vanished when Kleiver strolled into the room, grinning forebodingly.

"G'Day, mate!" Kleiver mocked, patting his protruding belly distractedly, that evil grin still present.  
"Hello, _Kleiver,_" Praxis hissed back. Hate was not nearly a strong enough word to describe the look on his face.  
"Hear you're sellin' off your daughter?" Kleiver mused in his dark Australian accent.  
"What's it to you?" Praxis glared defensively.  
"Well, _I _think I should be Ashelin's bloke because…" Kleiver had to stop to think; he looked around the room as if searching for a prompt. "Because I…well…uhm…_line_?" he peered around hopefully, but no one was there to help him.

"Macks…" Praxis gasped, looking awestruck. The Krimzon Guard known as Macks had been called in to replace Tomm, and was standing in the same place that the latter had been. "I think I've found my son in law," Praxis continued. Macks should've known better than to question the Baron's logic, but his preferred loyalty to Ashelin prompted him to respond.  
"But, Lord Baron Sir, that man is…30 years or so older than your daughter," he protested. Praxis' look of awe slid into a look of disgust.  
"I will have no daughter of mine marrying some _old fart_!" Praxis bellowed, slamming his fist into the armrest.  
"Oh yeah?! Well you're a…uh…um…_line_?"  
Praxis resisted the urge to fall in love with Kleiver's "charm" again (with aided help from Macks).

"Buy something, _get out_, and COME BACK TOMMOROW!" Praxis roared, pointing to his newly erected souvenir stall, then to the exit. Kleiver rolled his eyes and began to mumble darkly as he dragged his feet over to the souvenir stall. He "tsked" and "harred" until he finally selected his purchase; a naked, clearly chewed, female Barbie doll with Praxis' head on her body instead of her own. Kleiver begrudgingly paid the Guard running the stall fifty bucks, then slumped from the room, still muttering darkly under his smelly breath.

"NEXT!" Praxis yelled.

The next person _dumb enough_ to _want_ to audition was Damas. The Sand King was about to say something to accompany the smug look on his face, but was told to "get out" before the words had even formed on his tongue. Damas huffily glowered at Praxis.

"Aww, what _happened_ to you man-" Damas began, but was cut off when the Baron screamed like Xena and began charging down the stairs. Damas was spooked enough that he let out a loud squeal and rushed over to the glass portion of the floor. He jumped into the air and did a bomb dive, which consequently broke the glass and sent him hurtling to his alleged doom.

"NEXT!" Praxis wailed, out of breath, once he'd ascended the many tedious steps leading to his throne.

Daxter wafted into the room trying to act slick. Tess was at his heels, glaring down at him moodily, her arms crossed. Daxter stopped in the middle of the room and seemed to suddenly realize Tess was there.

"Oh, hey baby!" he beamed up at her. "How long you been there?" he asked.  
"I've _been here _the whole time, telling _you _not to do this!" Tess hissed.  
"Come on, Doll-Face," Daxter began to argue smoothly.  
"Oh, Daxter…" Praxis giggled, as though he was being flirted with. The Ottsel turned a disgruntled look towards Praxis.  
"_Not you_! I was talkin' to Tess! She's the only _babe _in this room," Daxter paused to think for a moment, then ran his hand across his ears, slicking them down, "Well, other than _yours truly_," he concluded.  
"Hmm…you _are _quite the looker," Praxis hummed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, staring down at Daxter. Macks felt compelled to speak up again.

"Sir, that _creature _is an Ottsel… Do you really want your daughter to marry an _animal_?" Macks whispered woefully. Praxis' face contorted with disgust once more.  
"ANIMAL?!" Praxis bellowed, "I will have no_ Zoophilia_ within the hallowed halls of my Palace!" he ranted. "That is _precisely _the reason I rejected Kleiver's audition!" he added.  
"I thought that was coz he was old…?" Daxter lazily shrugged.  
"GET OUT!" Praxis screamed, sending Daxter on his way.

The Ottsel sent the Baron a rather rude hand sign, then turned on his heel and stormed out the door, Tess on his tail (like, literally _stamping_ on it) the entire way out.

"NEXT!"

Erol reluctantly sauntered into the room, clad in a hot pink tuxedo, equipped with a red rose on his front and gelled, parted hair. The smell of Praxis' McDonalds cologne followed him into the room.

"Sir, do I _have _to do this? I don't want to do this…" Erol groaned in protest.  
"Erol, Erol, Erol…_Errol_?" Praxis paused confusedly. "If you didn't want to audition, then why did you sign up? You know how busy a man I am," Praxis chortled, tapping his watch.  
"You _forced _me to sign up!" Erol yelled.  
"Prrrp, there you go spouting your _lies_ again," Praxis chuckled. "I never _forced _you. Who told you that?"  
"Told me…no one _told me_! I physically endured it! In fact, I still _am_ enduring it! You _physically forced me _to write my name on the sign-up sheet, then threatened to send me on a weight loss venture _during racing season_, if I didn't wear this stupid getup and drown myself in your smelly cologne!" Erol ranted and raved. Praxis chuckled again and placed his hand on his chest like an amused rich lady.

"Looks like someone can't admit that he's got a little crush on my daughter," Praxis giggled quietly to Macks. Erol heard this remark and grew enraged, a lovely shade of rage-red forming on his cheeks.  
"I _do not _fancy Ashelin!" Erol protested. Praxis burst out laughing, banging his fist on his armrest enthusiastically. Erol became grumpier. Tearing the rose from his front, he threw it on the ground and childishly smeared it into the carpet with his shoe, before turning on his heel and marching out of the room. Praxis continued to laugh flamboyantly. When Macks began to nervously laugh along with the Baron, Praxis chummily smacked him on the back with enough force that Macks stumbled off the side of the stairs and fell the great height to the glass floor below. Thankfully, the glass cracked under Macks' weight but didn't break.

"Help me…" he moaned from his decrepit state on the floor, perhaps hosting a broken leg. Praxis promptly ignored him, though wondered aloud where Macks had got to.

"NEXT!" Praxis boomed through his laughter.

A particularly complacent looking Samos floated (literally) into the room. He landed gracefully, facing the Baron at the base of the stairs, but made no attempt to say or do anything. Praxis' laughter simmered down and he regarded the old sage with a precautious look.

"Hmm," Praxis hummed thoughtfully. "I _do _like the vibe coming off this one, but…the green is very…_off-putting_," he pondered. The prospect of Ashelin marrying someone who looked (and smelled) like a cabbage did not sit well with the Baron in the least. He fingered his metallic nose, deep in thought.

"What brings you here, old man? Why do you seek my daughter?" Praxis boomed at Samos.  
"For many moons and many suns, I have been trapped, drifting on the blistering, enthusiastic winds, egged on by the angry trees and their singing leaves," Samos prattled on. Praxis watched on blankly. "When I was carried by the breeze into the park, my supple body interacted with the flying kites of the children below, and the rocks pelted my way, begged the wind to let me descend."  
"What _are _you rambling about, old man?" Praxis boomed.  
"Whilst I would've liked a better place to finally land, I suppose I am just grateful to feel the ground beneath my bunions," Samos carried on, flexing his toes meaningfully.  
"_Bunions_?!" Praxis suddenly roared. "Oh no! Not in _my _throne room! I _eat _in here!" he stumbled in his mad panic down the stairs. Blindly grabbing a nearby broom, he pushed Samos towards the hole Damas had created earlier, sighing in relief when the Sage plummeted through it with ease.

Praxis returned to his throne and beckoned for the next contender.

Veger dragged his feet through the door, looking very displeased. He was clad in what would've been an "adorable" little sailor suit, short-shorts and brimmed-hat included. A large, rainbow-coloured lollypop was in his hand, and a wig of golden ringlets was on his head.

"Aww, isn't he _cute_, Macks?" Praxis sighed lovingly, eyeing the disgruntled Veger. Macks groaned something indecipherable from below.

Veger grimaced at how _right _Ashelin had been. This outfit, it appealed to Praxis perfectly. As if it wasn't bad enough that Ashelin had roped him into this by force, under the theory of "I'll have a perfect husband: the kind that I can walk all over", but now Praxis thought he was _cute. _Veger shuddered at the thought. A lengthy, wooden stick extruding from the darkness of the hallway outside the throne room, prodding him in the back, reminded Veger that he was to lick the lollypop in his hand, then make small talk with the Baron. He did the former with a disgruntled scowl on his face, and then cleared his throat.

"So," Veger asked in a sigh, "Which Spice Girl is _your _favourite?"  
"SCARY SPICE!" Praxis squealed excitedly.  
"Oh…yeah, she's great," Veger replied non-enthusiastically. A sharp prod of that cursed stick quickly corrected him, "YEAH! I love her…um…afro!"  
"Yeah, isn't it great? I bet she can store all _sorts_ of foods in there for later!" Praxis beamed, fanning his face eagerly. Another sharp prod of the pole instructed Veger to commence part three of the plan.

"Say, do you like McDonalds?" Veger asked politely. "Because I was thinking we could go and…no…No! Ashelin I _can't _do this!" Veger growled, turning to face the darkness of the hallway. A threatening sort of snarl emitted from the shadows.

"No, I _refuse_, damn you!" Veger argued, as though there had been words in that snarl. He began to rant and rave about his dignity being at stake, all the while brandishing his lollypop around in exaggerated fury. He was holding the little plastic stick of the lollypop so tightly that it began to crack under the pressure. The crack stemmed from the base of the stick and travelled, surely with a purpose, to the lolly. The rainbow hunk of candy cracked down the centre and splintered into many pieces, falling to the floor.

"YOU HEATHEN!" Praxis roared upon witnessing the lollypop's demise. He hurled himself to his feet and came bounding down the stairs towards Veger. Veger was dumbstruck, backing towards the door too slowly to truly save himself in time. He tripped and collapsed on the floor, trying to scamper away from the impending Baron.

This couldn't go more wrong, Veger thought. First he'd been forced to go through this by Ashelin, and now the Baron was surely going to kill him or worse, eat him. Veger briefly wondered why on earth he bothered trying to deal with this bothersome family, but was interrupted by the Baron's large shadow looming over him.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the Palace, the City Council was holding a meeting. The absent Head of Council, Veger, seemed to be the focal point of their discussion.

"He's overworking us," one complained.  
"He's gone crazy," another whined.  
"He smells like mothballs," a man groaned.  
"He ate all our bagels!" a chubby lady sobbed.  
"What's that noise?" someone suddenly posed.

The room fell silent. There was definitely screaming. After deciding it was coming from outside, the entire City Council pressed themselves up against the windows. They watched silently as they saw Veger falling through the air some one hundred meters away. Clearly he'd been hurled out the Throne Room window above them. He was flailing around madly, no doubt in tears, praying that an obese citizen would just so happen to be in between himself and the hard concrete of the city below.

Silence hung about the Meeting Room until Veger had fallen out of sight. Unanimous cheers then erupted from the City Council. Within several short minutes, a party was in full swing, equipped with party food, alcohol and a male stripper.

Clearly the City Council was struggling to grieve their _terrible_ loss.

Back in the Throne Room, Praxis had encountered _quite _the conundrum.

"So, let me get this straight," the Baron mused, lolling over the man at the base of his stairs. "You…_smoke_?" he asked.  
"You bet," Jinx replied simply with a shrug, rolling his lit cigarette to the other side of his mouth.  
"Okay, okay, hold up, hold up, hold up a moment here. I'm not quite…_fathoming _this," Praxis scratched his beard. "You…_smoke_?" he repeated, looking very befuddled.  
"Yeah, what's it to yah?" Jinx shrugged again, extracting his cigarette and tapping the ashes out of it onto the floor.  
"You…want to marry my son?" Praxis asked slowly.  
"You mean daughter," Jinx corrected.  
"Don't you tell me what breed my kid is!" Praxis boomed defensively. Jinx merely shrugged again. "What makes you think that I, Baron Praxis, would let you, _a smoker_, marry my child?" Praxis ranted, perhaps displaying some proper responsibility for a change.  
"Yeah…say, how much dough is she worth?" Jinx asked nonchalantly.  
"Dough…?" Praxis blinked, "Ashelin is made of dough?"  
"No, you know _dough_? Paper? Currency? _Collateral_?" Jinx elaborated, sucking in a long drawl of his cigarette then blowing it out of his nose with full force. The cogs began to work in Praxis' head as he began to ponder whether _maybe_ Jinx was _perhaps _just doing this to _possibly_ inherit a large fortune. Praxis was on the brink of deciding that this was the case, when the smoke from Jinx's cigarettes permeated through his skull through the many orifices in his head, jamming up his thought process. After experiencing a ten-minute long coughing attack, Baron Praxis finally snapped.

"NO!" he bellowed at the top of his mighty voice. "Mark my words," he growled forebodingly, "No _smoker_ will _ever_ marry _my _son." Praxis pointed meaningfully to the door and made a loud, agitated noise, which much resembled the disgruntled noise an elephant might make if it were stolen by poachers and forced to live out its days within the confines of a garage in the middle of suburbia (Jinx had heard this exact noise once before, whilst he operated in the Black _Pet_ Market).

"OUT!" the Baron demanded, still pointing at the door.  
"Your loss," Jinx responded with a shrug. The sleazy man spun around slowly and sauntered out the door, perhaps pocketing something from Praxis' souvenir stand on the way out.

It was evident that the large Baron was growing tired of these auditions.  
"B'Aaaaawwww…how much more of this do I have to sit through?" he complained, "Whose dumb idea was this anyway?"

The next contestant marched into the room very purposefully, as though he was on a mission. He halted at the base of the stairs and saluted the Baron. Silence followed. Praxis sat staring at the strange new contestant.

"Are you…a _robot_?" the Baron asked after twenty whole minutes of staring stupidly. UR86 responded with a sharp nod, finally lowering his saluting arm. His metallic body glinted in the light of the Throne Room, and there was a pleasant smell of new car in the air thanks to his arrival. Praxis decided that he quite _liked _this one.

"So…you have…transport abilities, correct?" Praxis mused. "Perhaps you can take me to McDonalds?" he went on. All of a sudden UR86 looked less eager. He took a harsh step backwards, failing completely at the subtle distaste that most people had learnt to display before the Baron.

"Yes…I think I would quite like to have _you _as a son in law!" Praxis beamed.  
"But…Sir…" Macks croaked, finally managing to pry himself off the floor. "What happens when it is time…for an heir?" he posed, dragging himself to the base of the stairs. Praxis lulled this over for a moment, then waved it away nonchalantly.  
"That thing," he indicated towards UR86, "is bound to have an oven on its person. I'll just throw the ingredients in there," Praxis shrugged dismissively.  
"What…?" Macks asked. "I think you've…confused the process of procreation…" he suggested. An annoyed growl slipped from the Baron's throat.  
"Who cares? I hate kids," Praxis shrugged uncaringly.  
"But…you'll never…be a Grand…Grand…uh…" Macks collapsed again, unable to continue. Praxis seemed to get the gist of what he was saying.  
"MY GOD!" the Baron shrieked, standing to his feet and clutching his metal-clad head in horror, "I'll never be a _Grandmother_!"

Determination coming over the Baron's face, he pointed accusingly at UR86. "You'll never woo me with your car scent again! I'm gonna get rid of you for good!" Praxis declared. He groped for his pink-coloured laptop and then raced down the stairs to UR86. Jamming an internet cord into the robot's torso, he opened up Internet Explorer and Googled two simple words: Kleiver nude. The robot had barely endured the first _thumbnail_, when his head spun around and his neck began to spark. A smog cloud of unpleasant smelling smoke drifted out of UR86's body, and a second later there was an explosion. His head flew off, rocketing across the room where it shattered a window, and flew into the distance.

Praxis dusted in his hands off after his "job well done" and returned to his throne. "Hah, that cheap, crummy robot fell apart _so easily_. He must've been made in some backwater country. You would _never_ find something so cheap and poorly built in _my _city. _Nobody _gets past Praxis!" Praxis declared, slamming his fist into his armrest. It broke off under the force of his meaty fist and went tumbling down the stairs, lying on the ground near UR86's body and the unconscious Macks.

"Guard! Remove this pile of _rubbish_!" the Baron demanded. A Krimzon Guard rushed into the room. He stopped near the stairs and scratched the back of his head, wondering whether Praxis was referring to UR86's body, to the armrest or to Macks. His brain eventually began to overload, but thankfully it did not blow up like UR86's did. Instead, he stumbled around the room for a moment, acting as though he were an off-balance drunk. When finally he collected himself, he settled to pick up UR86's body under one arm and Macks' under the other, and he picked up the armrest in his teeth – much in the fashion of Drinky Bird. He scuttled out the room as quickly as he'd hurried in.

_Finally _the last entrant in Praxis disconcerting little contest wafted into the room. He sauntered in with a certain suaveness to his step. He halted, a perfect distance from the tiny steps leading to throne, and relaxed his weight onto a single leg, crossing an arm over his midriff. Praxis' small eye widened; this creature, this _specimen_, he was _flawless, _in _every single way._

"Can we get this over with please?" Razer drawled impatiently, checking his non-existent wristwatch as he tapped the ashes from his cigarette's end, "I have laundry waiting."

"Will you marry me?" Praxis blubbered in a high-pitched voice.  
"What?" Razer hissed, raising a brow and scrunching up his nose in disgust. He took an extra long breath of his cigarette to settle his suddenly churned stomach. The aftermath of smoke blew from Razer's parted lips and travelled to the Baron's throne, clouding Praxis' head and making him wheeze.  
"Oh," the Baron giggled, fanning his face as he raised and lowered his brow suggestively. "I find your smoking habit to be…_particularly alluring _and _tremendously suave_," he flirted, completely contradicting his earlier aversion of Jinx.  
"Yes, yes, whatever," Razer drawled, checking that invisible watch again. "Get on with it," he waved his hand in a 'hurry up' manner, "My Calvin Kleins are not going to dry clean themselves."

Before the Baron even bothered to contemplate Razer's posh and needy washables, he let out an excited, strangled sort of noise and threw himself from his throne.

"What are you doing?" Razer demanded to know. Instead of a proper response, the racing champion was scooped up violently by Praxis' hefty arms and carried by the bounding Baron out of the Throne Room door. It was a sight that resembled a footballer carrying his precious football under one arm, even to the extent that Praxis was pushing people out of his way with his outstretched, free hand, and was tackling some of those poor souls when they didn't evade him fast enough.

"Put me _down _you oaf!" Razer yelled angrily, the whole while kicking his legs about feebly. Praxis ignored Razer and then 'rewarded' his survival to Ashelin's bedroom door by violently pelting him into the ground as though he was scoring a "touchdown". Razer quickly checked to make sure all of his teeth were still intact, and then attempted to run away. A large arm wrapped around his neck and forced his face into the sweaty fold of Praxis' armpit, making him accidentally swallow his burning cigarette in the process.

"Ashelin! ASHELIN!" Praxis boomed as he repetitively slammed his fist on Ashelin's bedroom door. Once or twice Praxis stumbled excitedly over his words and accidentally (or perhaps _purposely_) referred to his daughter as "Asslin".

"Ashelin! Ashelin! Quick! Come look at the husband Daddy has picked for you!" the Baron cooed. Razer managed to claw himself into a slightly more profitable position from within the Baron's headlock, freeing his face and allowing himself to smell untainted air.  
"I knew I shouldn't have let UR86 _drag me _here," he choked, struggling to breathe through his crushed lungs.  
"ASHELIN!" the Baron roared, growing impatient, his grip tightening on Razer as a result.

Finally Ashelin emerged from her room, sighing irritably. She glared at Praxis with such a velocity that surely would kill a weaker man, and then turned her unimpressed stare to rest on Razer.  
"Help me…I think I'm dying…" he wheezed pathetically.

"Isn't he _great_?" Praxis giggled joyfully.  
"_Him_," Ashelin spat, recognizing the uncharacteristically disheveled Razer within a moment. "You chose _him_ to become your son in law? You expect me to _marry _this _filth_?" she demanded sassily.  
"He's going to be your permanent boyfriend!" Praxis beamed as though he were talking to a preschooler.  
"Oh…_goodie_," Razer grumbled sarcastically, trying to pry himself free of the Baron, only to fail.  
"But Father," Ashelin sighed, "I keep telling you. I already _have _a boyfriend."  
"Really?" Praxis asked dumbfounded, as though he'd only just heard this news, which certainly wasn't the case, as Ashelin had told him close to a million times just this morning. "Who is he?" the Baron enquired in a gossipy manner.

"Oh um…well I…I _really_ shouldn't tell you," Ashelin said nervously.  
"Oh…well…where does he work? What's his job?" the Baron asked curiously.  
"Uhm…his _job_? Well uh…he…that is to say his _career_ is…uh… He's trying to kill you," Ashelin blurted out. Praxis face went blank as he processed this information.  
"You're dating DAMAS?" he raved after a moment of deliberation.  
"What? NO!" Ashelin yelled.  
"Oh…so then it's Kleiver?!" Praxis accused.  
"Eww! NO!" Ashelin shrieked.  
"Fred Deluca?" the Baron tried again. "Jenny Craig…?" he was clearly running out of ideas (which was surprising as _many people _wanted the Baron dead).  
"Is _Jak_ not supposed to be out for your blood?" Razer suggested uncomfortably. Praxis let out a loud booming laugh. His large stomach bobbed up and down erratically with his laughter, giving Razer's compressed cheek a nice rash as a result.  
"Jak? You're dating _Jak_?!" the Baron laughed obnoxiously, staring at his daughter as though she'd suddenly spouted three heads.  
"NO! I am _not_ dating Jak!" Ashelin protested angrily. Praxis seemed to ignore or doubt her.  
"Oh sweetie, _Jak's not a killer_! He would _never _kill me," Praxis giggled dismissively. "Jak wouldn't even stab that old cabbage Samos!" he added.

_Meanwhile _at the Underground, Jak was grumpier than all the grumpy synonyms put together. News of his rejection in favour of Razer had reached him and now he was mad; mad enough that he would take it out on _anyone_. _That old cabbage Samos_, he would do perfectly to vent out Jak's frustrations. Thus he had taken fight to Samos, at first calling him names, then bringing violence into the equation. Ah yes, Jak's sweet, sweet justice had come to him…when Samos whipped out his wooden staff and waved it menacingly in Jak's direction, all the while telling the 'whipper-snapper' to dust his rock collection 'or else'.

Jak complied immediately, of course. But he was going to get his revenge, his sweet, sweet, _delicious_ revenge! Knife in hand, Jak would do the deed nice and quick. It would be over before Samos even saw him coming…because Samos hated it when people cut up his fresh baked brownies and ate them before he allowed it. Oh yeah, Jak was so _boss _today.

"Where's Torn?" Daxter suddenly asked Jak.  
"I dunno…" Jak pondered for a while, "Maybe he's at the Palace?"  
"Oh yeah, trying to get rid of that brainless Baron!" Daxter agreed.

Ashelin's conversation with Praxis back at the Palace was not nearly running as smoothly as this.

"I'm not dating Jak," she said through gritted teeth once more.  
"Well sure, not anymore! Now you're dating this guy," the Baron chimed, raising Razer upwards slightly in his hold.  
"NO! I already _have _a boyfriend!" she protested.  
"Really?" that dumbfounded look returned to Praxis' face. "Who is he?"  
"I can't tell you!" Ashelin growled.  
"Where does he work?" Praxis casually asked. Razer looked around shiftily. This conversation was sounding uncannily familiar to him, but he _couldn't quite recall_ where he'd heard it before.  
"HE'S GOING TO KILL YOU!" Ashelin shrieked, though it was unclear as to whether she was answering her father's question or whether she had simply lost all patience for the situation and was now throwing out threats. Who could truly tell?  
"Perhaps she's referring to Torn?" Razer spoke up. Praxis laughed violently again.  
"Oh Sweetie," Praxis chortled, "Torn's my _home boy_! And he would _never_ stab me in the back!"  
"He's doing it right now!" Ashelin shrieked, pointing accusingly. Praxis continued to chortle in disbelief.  
"Oh, _yeah right,_ Ashelin," Praxis laughed sarcastically, "Sure, _I _believe you."  
"I think you'd better listen to her…" Razer muttered ominously. Praxis' face went blank, struggling to comprehend these words. A small stream of drool dribbled from his mouth and dripped onto Razer's face. Razer screamed as though he were under a torrent of acid rain and writhed around just as over-dramatically. Ashelin began clicking her fingers in front of Praxis' face, attempting to bring him back into reality.

"Oh my god…" Praxis finally whispered as a look of realization swept over him. He was so awestruck that he dropped Razer. "TORN'S TRYING TO KILL ME?!" he roared, swivelling around defensively. Razer scurried out of the way to narrowly avoid meeting a gruesome fate under the Baron's large foot.

Literally, there Torn was, knife in hand; he made stabbing notions towards the Baron's large belly, chanting "die" over and over again. Alas, every time his rubber toy dagger collided with the Baron's gut, it simply bent outwards uselessly.

"Damn it!" Torn barked, still trying in vain to stab the Baron with that toy knife.  
"Torn…why not use your pistol?" Razer enquired from nearby.  
"Coz," Torn growled, not looking away from his 'work', "I only got one more bullet and I'm saving it for the getaway," he spat.

With unrivalled determination, the dreadlocked wonder tried relentlessly for several minutes to penetrate the Baron's gut, but alas, it was not to be.

"Ah, stupid novelty crap!" he eventually yelled, twisting the rubber knife around in rage, but it refused to distort out of shape. Angrily, Torn hurled it to the floor. Without thinking, he pulled his pistol out and fired at the rubber knife, missing it by three inches (though leaving a nice smoking hole in the lush carpet). "DAMN IT!" he barked, "I spent my week's rent on that bullet!"

He turned his enraged face back to Praxis. "That is the _last time _I get fooled into buying something from your _stupid _souvenir stand!" Torn raged, pointing at the rubber knife on the floor.  
"HEY!" the Baron yelled back, "You should just be happy you got it _duty_ _free_!"  
"Duty free…_duty free,_" Torn grumbled erratically and angrily, pacing around like a mad man. "DUTY FREE?!" he screamed one last time before he went storming off down the hallway, muttering angrily.  
"See you on our date on Tuesday, Torn," Ashelin called sweetly after Torn. "See you later, _Father_," she hissed darkly afterwards. She turned quickly and slipped into her room, slamming the door in the Baron's face.

The Baron stood in the same place with a stupid look on his face for many minutes to come, drool running down his chin. Razer managed to slip away while he was (oh, how to say this politely?) distracted.

Ashelin quite wished that she _too _could merely slip away from all of this. She settled to distract herself with her lovely game of _darts _again. With any luck, she thought, perhaps her father would just forget about this whole marriage thing? Or maybe he'd forget to organize the wedding? Heck, if she were _really _lucky, maybe her father would simply get jealous and go on a rampage and _destroy _the wedding.

Ah, she could merely dream.


	32. My Big Fat Baron Wedding PT2

******Note: This chapter has been redone and new content has been added. The older version MAY appear on deviantArt.**

**********Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog. Any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original and rightful owners.**

**********Summary: Praxis has selected the appropriate candidate to be Ashelin's husband, and now all he needs to do is push the 'love birds' together. What could _possibly _go wrong at their wedding?**

* * *

**Palace Stories – We Exaggerate Weddings Now**

**My Big Fat Baron Wedding  
Part Two**

**(Refurbished)**

* * *

A new day dawned across Haven City. Praxis awoke peculiarly bright and early, a cheerful smile on his face. He crawled out of his Baron-Sized bed (the size of two King-Sized beds put together) and stretched out his hefty arms, a pungent aroma of onions suddenly filling the air.

"What's that smell?" he asked confusedly, noting, with much puzzlement, that the smell disappeared once he lowered his arms. His shrugged the weight of the mystery from his shoulders. Today he had far more _important _things to worry about.

"Ah! I see my new future son-in-law is awake!" the Baron beamed, unlocking a large cage on the opposite side of his room. Razer emerged looking unshaven and clearly ruffled. He looked the Baron up and down several times, noting his frilly, girly nighty.  
"Are you _aware _of the repulsive noises you orchestrate in your sleep?" he asked, sucking out a long breath of his inch-long cigarette. Praxis promptly ignored this question.  
"Guess what today is!" the Baron instead asked cheerfully.  
"I do not know. Please tell me it involves _you_ and a large wooden _box_?" Razer spat in a snarky tone.  
"Oh, oh," Praxis giggled, "Goodness no, silly Razer! Running the McDonald's delivery truck off the road and ransacking its crates of goods is a _Tuesday _thing. Today is Sunday."  
"Hmm, _clearly_," Razer muttered. "Can I go home now? I have races waiting to be won back at Kras, yes? Plus I am down to my last two cigarettes," he mused, eyeing his shortened cigarette irritably.  
"Oh no, you're not going anywhere!" the Baron declared, "You're gonna be stuck in this rotating Palace for the rest of your life!" A mystified look came over the Baron's face, "Perhaps even longer…" he said with a wide eye.

"Oh…how nice," Razer groaned, his voice laden with sharp sarcasm.  
"But don't worry!" Praxis beamed, slapping Razer on the back chummily, making the shorter man stumble. "It'll only be a matter of time before you _grow into the job_. You know what I'm saying," Praxis winked, patting his large stomach meaningfully. Razer scrunched his bony face up in disgust.  
"Excuse me, Sir, but if I grow to your size, I'm afraid there will be no chance of me fitting into my beloved Havoc V12," Razer said bluntly.  
"WHAT?" Praxis bellowed, "I can fit into your stupid car!"

After waddling downstairs and onto the footpath outside where Razer had parked his wondrous racecar, Praxis learnt the hard way that, _no, _he _couldn't _fit into the Havoc V12. Razer had large groping marks all across his exterior, a shredded seat, mangled machine gun turrets, a huge bottom shaped indent on the bonnet, and a nauseating smelling interior of his Havoc V12 to prove this fact. To make matters worse, the arduous journey back up to his bedroom simply made Praxis a far bitterer Baron. He sulked into the room and clambered back into bed, stating plain and simple that "he didn't want to go to school today".

Razer applied his cunning and used this opportunity to make a break for it, but as soon as he took several steps out of Praxis' threshold, an agitated, balding man, covered in bandages and hosting a crutch under one armpit, stood in his way.

"Oh no, oh _no _you don't," Veger stuttered aggressively, supporting himself against the nearest wall as he waved his crutch at Razer threateningly. "You're not leaving! If you leave that…that…that…_Ashelin_ will find a way to rope me into your spot…I _know _she will…" he grinned dementedly.  
"Calm down, old man. Not the face," Razer said slowly, backing away. He turned tail to flee in the opposite direction, but immediately collided with the Baron's towering frame.  
"So! You ready for the picnic?" Praxis boomed excitedly.  
"Pic…nic…?" Razer mouthed, recollecting himself. "Wait a minute, weren't you just sulking in…there?" Razer asked, pointing into the Baron's empty room. "And weren't you wearing a hideous nighty only a moment ago?" he suddenly realised that Praxis was clad in his usual Baron clothes.  
"So many questions!" Praxis groaned like a rebellious teenager. "Didn't I already tell you that I didn't _want _to go to _school_ today?"  
Razer decided once again that Praxis was not a man in his right mind and decided he would voice his confusion on this particular matter no more.

"Now, get into your carry bag," the Baron instructed sternly, laying a large sports bag on the ground and unzipping it.  
"Uhm…I would much prefer to walk," Razer protested glumly.  
"Walk…_walk_?" Praxis gaped. In a split second the large Baron went into a stupor of rage. "How dare you use that word right outside my bedroom door?!" he roared. Fearing that another heinous obscenity would be slurred from Razer's mouth (Praxis had had a gut feeling the "C-bomb" would be spoken – that being the word "celery"), Praxis grabbed the smaller man and began to force him into the bag. He was just zipping it up when Razer tried to pull his way out of it. Veger's crutch suddenly became an object of interest to the Baron, and so he yanked it from the unsuspecting Head of Council, leaving the decrepit man to fall flat on his face. The jabbing of the crutch handle into Razer's lithe body was enough to fend back the racer, and Praxis zipped up the bag hastily to avoid a further escape attempt.

When Ashelin later asked her father what was in this bag, and consequently wondered aloud why it was moving around so much and screaming, the Baron merely shrugged his shoulders and grumbled "I dunno". Hence the topic was promptly dropped. Instead, Ashelin directed her woes toward the large wicker basket in her father's other hand, and then flinched when the word 'picnic' wafted out of the Baron's pursed lips.

It took an hour to actually get to the picnic site, which was located in the park (which was odd in itself because a park doesn't even exist in Haven City). By the time they'd even left the Palace, Praxis had lost his mind and had consumed all of the food in the basket anyway.

Samos drifted by in the background, and became entangled in several flying kites (much to the groans and 'not agains' of their owners), while Praxis laid down a red and white chequered blanket. When Praxis delved into the picnic basket and found it empty, he became infuriated, demanding to know who had eaten all the food. When no one owned up, he tore the basket up in rage and hastily consumed any surviving crumbs of food (no matter how old or mouldy they were) that had been lurking in the wicker weaves. After this show of belligerent insanity, Praxis calmly remembered his sports bag and hobbled over to it. He unzipped it eagerly, a big smile on his face, but that smile faded when he pulled the bag open.

"This isn't my tennis racket…" the Baron pouted disappointedly, as he pulled a very pale, out of breath and tousled Razer out. Ashelin was unsure what to make of this, but chose to observe silently as Razer was forced to sit on the picnic mat.

"Now, you two just sit tight right here and get comfortable," Praxis giggled girlishly, getting to his feet. "I'm just gonna run a few errands, and when I get back, the two of you better be all kissy and cuddling!" he beamed. As soon as the last syllable had exited his mouth, the Baron's face turned dark and threatening. "Don't you _dare _touch my daughter while I'm gone," he growled, looming over Razer and jabbing him harshly in the chest.

Razer and Ashelin found themselves alone – well, bar for that conspicuously Baron shaped object several paces away, hiding behind an undersized tree, but that wasn't important.

"So," Razer coughed, lighting up his last cigarette. "Is he _always _like this?" he continued in a drawl.  
"Like what?" Ashelin asked, looking unimpressed.  
"Well, let's just say I am one to think your father escaped the evolution chain. Needless to say, he very much reminds me of the type of creature you would find living under a bridge, eating _pixies_," Razer shrugged smarmily. Plain as the day, Praxis' big head peered around that little tree before it quickly darted back behind it again. Ashelin's expression dropped.  
"Yes. Yes he is," she sighed.  
"As I thought," Razer responded smugly.

Silence then befell the two. Praxis became very impatient and giddy.  
"Come on, _come on_," he mumbled nervously, hopping from foot to foot as though he were waiting in line for the bathroom.  
"Baron, Sir, are you alright?" Erol spoke up from the bush beside Praxis. Doubtless, the Commander was worried such frequent hopping coming from his overlord would set off an earthquake.  
"They're not _doing _anything," Praxis whined, apparently very frustrated.  
"Well…what are you going to do, Sir?" Erol enquired.  
"Well," Praxis stated simply, halting his hopping, "It's not what _I'm _gonna do. It's what _you're _gonna do."  
"Okay," Erol spoke with hesitation. "So, what am _I_ going to do?" he probed.  
"Well, it's not what _you're _gonna do, it's what _I'm _gonna _make _you do," Praxis cleared up. Erol sighed and massaged his temples for a moment.  
"Okay, what are _you _going to force _me _to do?" he asked begrudgingly.  
"Well, it's not what _I'm_ gonna-"  
"Just get on with it! Today is my day off, I want to go home!" Erol snapped. Praxis looked grumpy for a moment and Erol began to fret that he'd spurred on an impending rampage. Thankfully the Baron soon forgot that his feelings had been hurt.

"I want _you_," Praxis spoke slowly. He stopped, looking around as if worried someone was eavesdropping, then continued, "…to go over _there_," he indicated in the vague direction that Razer and Ashelin were in, "and say…" Praxis looked around once more and then, in a voice so fast, he said the most jumbled sentence Erol had ever heard. Briefly Erol thought it had been spoken in a foreign language. He stared at the Baron with a blank face.

"_What_ did you say, Sir?" Erol asked confusedly. Praxis repeated the sentence again, but still Erol could not decipher a word of it. He gawked at the Baron as though he'd grown three heads (which would've been a complete _disaster _with Praxis' appetite). Praxis rolled his eyes and repeated his request again, though this time Erol could've sworn it had grown even more elaborate and confusing.

"I cannot understand a single word you're saying," Erol grumbled through gritted teeth. Praxis remained staring at Erol as though he were an idiot. He stared _so long _that he forgot _why _he was staring; this confused Praxis _further_. Finally it dawned on the Baron what was going on.  
"_Fine_," he sassed agitatedly, grabbing his hot pink cell phone and selecting a number from his 'speed dial list'. "I'll just get someone _more competent _to help me," he glared as he brought the phone up to his ear. It rang for a moment, and then someone picked up.

"_Girl_, you would not _believe _the hell I'm going through down here," Praxis whined snootily to the person on the phone. "Yeah, it's _him _again," he sent a dirty look towards Erol. "Yeah _I know _I should just leave him, but come on, seriously _girlfriend _this is _so _not the time to lecture me about that. Just come down here, you know?" the Baron jabbered like a gossipy diva. When he hung up (20 minutes later) he declared that his BFF was on _her _way. Erol swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, half expecting Scary Spice to show up.

Thankfully it _wasn't _Scary Spice. Hmm, no…_thankfully _isn't quite the right word. Ah yes, _unfortunately _it wasn't Scary Spice.

"What is _he _doing here?" Erol whined once Jak appeared at the scene of the 'crime' a short time later.  
"Hey man," Jak cheered, "What's goin' down?"  
"_Finally_, you're here," the Baron sighed. "I need you to go over there," he again pointed in the direction of his 'romantic' picnic, "And say…" he again repeated that fast and confusing line all within five seconds.  
"Alright, I got this," Jak declared, a look of sheer determination coming over his face. He got to his feet and heroically stalked off in the direction that Praxis had pointed him in.

"Hey girl, you're looking _good _today."  
"What would you like to order, Sir?"  
"Oh right…I'll have one," Jak cleared his throat, a possessed look came over his face and he began to talk loudly and extremely quickly, "Angus Bacon and Cheese, Angus Deluxe, Angus Mushroom and Swiss, Big Mac, Quarter Pounder with Cheese, Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese, Hamburger, Cheeseburger, _Double _Cheeseburger, _McDouble,_" Jak paused to suck in a huge breath, "One Fillet-O-Fish, Southern Style Crispy Chicken Sandwich, _Premium _Crispy Chicken Classic Sandwich, Premium Grilled Classic Chicken Sandwich, Premium Crispy Chicken Club Sandwich, Premium _Grilled _Chicken Club Sandwich," Jak rasped in another large breath. The McDonalds cashier girl eyed him with boredom, apparently no stranger to such a colossal order.

"One Premium Crispy Chicken _Ranch_ _BLT _Sandwich, Premium _Grilled _Chicken Ranch BLT Sandwich, McChicken, Angus Bacon and Cheese Snack Wrap, Angus _Deluxe _Snack Wrap, Angus Mushroom and Swiss Snack Wrap, Chipotle Crispy BBQ Snack Wrap, Chipotle _Grilled _BBQ Snack Wrap, Honey Mustard Crispy Snack Wrap, Honey Mustard _Grilled _Snack Wrap, Crispy Ranch Snack Wrap, _Grilled _Ranch Snack Wrap, Mac Snack Wrap, _McRib_," Jak took in another raspy breath, sweat dripping off his reddened face.

"Spicy Chicken McBites, Chicken McNuggets, Chicken Selects Premium Breast Strips, Large Fries, Medium Fries, _Small _Fries, Dipped Cone, Vanilla Cone, Kiddie Cone, Hot Fudge Sundae, Hot Caramel Sundae, McFlurry with Rolo, McFlurry with M&M's, McFlurry with Oreo Cookies, McFlurry with Reese's, S'mores Pie, Chocolate Shake, Vanilla Shake, Soft Baked Chocolate Chip Cookies, Soft Baked Sugar Cookies and a _Large Coke_!" Jak yelled at the top of his voice. He collapsed against the counter top, breathing heavily.

"So…in other words, just about _everything _on the entire menu?" the cashier girl said unenthusiastically, casually wiping Jak's spit off her face with a napkin.  
"Yes…Yes please…" Jak panted.  
"Okay. Shall I put the _enormous _bill onto _Baron Praxis' _tab?" she asked nonchalantly.  
"Sure thing…" Jak wheezed.

Jak returned to Praxis with an industrial sized wheelbarrow full of food. Praxis shrieked in delight at the sight of it. Erol was not impressed.

"What was the point of that?!" he yelled at the Baron, not caring that his raised voice surely attracted the attention of Razer and Ashelin.  
"Duh," Praxis spat, "the Breakfast Menu just ended," he tapped his watch-less wrist meaningfully.  
"What now?" Jak asked excitedly. Praxis issued no more orders; he was far too busy stuffing his face whilst hunched over the wheelbarrow. Brown paper McDonalds bags where being shredded and accidentally consumed left right and centre. When Praxis became particularly desperate to get to the bottom reaches of the wheelbarrow, he accidentally sent it toppling over. He growled furiously, then dove into the pile of food, continuing to gorge.

Erol watched on, wishing he'd thought to bring something to settle his stomach as it gurgled disdainfully to the sight before him. Jak seemed less fused, but was dumb, or perhaps _brave _enough to try and sneak himself a French fry. His hand was batted away and a threatening snarl was sent in his direction through the Baron's mouthful of Angus beef. After 20 seconds of this rampant gorging, with food crumbs and paper bits flying all over the place, the Baron had consumed his entire meal. He slumped against the nearest tree and patted his gut eloquently.

"Okay, I think we're good now," Praxis declared. "Time for Plan G," he stated in a mystified voice.  
"Wait…what happened to all the other plans? You know A, B, C, etcetera?" Erol posed confusedly. Praxis looked around embarrassedly, avoiding eye contact with Erol.  
"Well I…_kinda _left the Blue Prints for those in my pocket, and then my pants went through the wash," Praxis admitted sheepishly. Erol's brow furrowed so deeply that it nearly consumed his eyes. His day off entirely spoiled, he needed to vent his rage.  
"I hate you!" he bellowed at Jak for little to no reason. A tidal wave of spit covered Jak.  
"Hey man, I wanted the _news_, not the _weather_," Jak complained as he wiped Erol's spit from his face with his sleeve.

Unexpectedly the Baron sat upright, an intense look on his face. He held up his hand as though to stop someone. The park suddenly seemed eerily quiet. A low rumbling noise started up from seemingly nowhere.

"What is that?" Razer asked Ashelin from a short distance away. Ashelin recognised this rumbling; she knew it well. She screamed at the top of her lungs and hit the deck, covering her head.

Praxis' lips parted slowly, and the rumbling noise intensified. The ground beneath them seemed to start shaking, loose leaves from the trees fluttering down upon Erol. When Praxis opened his mouth wide, the velocity hit them. At first Erol thought somebody had dropped a bomb on Haven City, in Praxis' exact position (he wouldn't put this past Damas). The familiar, disgusting sound of a roaring belch begged to correct Erol; he covered his ears, fearing his eardrums might burst. He didn't want to open his mouth, to risk second-hand Baron-belch air getting into it, but once he impulsively started screaming under the pressure, he could no longer help it. The sound coming from Praxis consumed all other noises in the entire city, and citizens were being thrown to the ground as the earth trembled beneath their feet.

The belch lasted for four whole minutes, but for the inhabitants of Haven City, particularly Erol, it lasted an eternity. When finally the noise stopped, it was replaced by a high-pitched ringing in everyone's ears, and the sound of several thousand zoomer alarms going off. Praxis sat dormant, looking blank.

"Alright, which wise guy just did that? That belch?" the Baron demanded to know, looking angry. Erol and Jak exchanged nervous glances. "FESS UP!" Praxis bellowed loudly.  
"With all due respect Sir, _you _were responsible for…_that_," Erol pointed out, fingering his ear in the hopes of making that annoying ringing disappear.  
"Keep your voice down!" Praxis yelled at Erol. "Do you want the whole city to hear us and find out we're hiding here, secretly spying on Razer and Ashelin to make sure their picnic goes to plan?!" he continued. It seemed he failed to realize that he too was yelling, let alone his belch earlier (which could _only _have been him) had probably given their place away to everyone on the entire planet already. Erol stared at the raving Baron speechlessly.  
"Dude," Jak gasped, looking very awestruck, "You are like…a _loud speaker_, but…you're like…_the Baron_."

Praxis randomly forgot what they were all doing hiding in the park, and went into a dazed state. Erol gained a much-needed moment of reprieve. Praxis snapped back into reality as casually as he'd left it.

"Now, Plan H is to…what?" Praxis noticed Erol was giving him a confused look.  
"Don't you mean Plan _G_, Sir?" Erol asked, "What happened to _Plan G_?"

As if on cue, Praxis burped and a soggy shred of brown paper bag drifted out of his mouth. It fluttered delicately to the ground while Erol, Jak and Praxis watched it intently. When finally it landed, it displayed a sodden yellow McDonalds M.

"So, Plan G was the McDonalds?" Erol asked, devoid of any real emotion in his voice.  
"Yes…" Praxis grumbled, a pouty look coming over his features. Erol sighed and rolled his eyes, placing his face in his hands. Suddenly Erol remembered that Jak was still here.  
"Why _are_ you _still _here?" Erol asked Jak suspiciously, wondering why _anyone _would actually opt to hang around the Baron.  
"I dunno," Jak merely shrugged.  
"Well, shouldn't you be off, I don't know, plotting to kill us or something?" Erol rolled his eyes. Praxis began to chortle.  
"Oh Erol! You and your stories! Jak would _never_ kill us!" the Baron laughed. Jak laughed alongside the Baron, though once or twice looked around shiftily as though someone were 'onto him'.  
"So, how come Ashelin needs a husband _now_ anyway?" Jak asked once he got the giggles out of his system.  
"Well," Praxis began, "I have to create a _new _Baron before I die in this game franchise, at the hands of Jak," he continued with an air of intelligence. It seemed as soon as he'd truly registered what he'd just said, the Baron went blank again, drooling as his eyes became unfocused. Erol died a little more on the inside. "JAK'S MY FRIEND!" Praxis bellowed out of nowhere, covering Erol and Jak in spit. Jak made his stale _weather joke_ again and attempted to wipe his portion of the Baron's spit onto Erol.

"Anyway, Gentlemen, Plan H is so dastardly, so _horrible_, so"-Praxis' eye suddenly became wide-"_Romantic_, that it'll blow your minds!" the Baron declared. "Those two'll fall in love _eight times_ before they hit the ground!" he boasted.  
"Okay," Erol said simply, "So what is this _Plan H_, then?" he asked. A malevolent smirk came to the Baron's face. He opened his mouth to respond to Erol's question, but a look of confusion swept over his features.  
"I…can't quite recall," Praxis mumbled. Erol rolled his eyes.  
"Well, maybe it'll just happen on its own," Jak offered optimistically.  
"Good idea!" the Baron cheered. And so the three idiots sat, waiting. Erol lost the patience to wait far earlier than the other two.  
"Surely you are not expecting to warrant any success by merely sitting here?" the Commander groaned. "Nothing is going to happen!" he stated stubbornly.

Oh how _wrong_ Erol was, for at that very moment,the main component for Plan H was in the park. In fact, that very same _component _was seated on his large rump, in plain view on his very own picnic mat, some several few metres away from where the trio was hiding. Jak spotted him before anyone else and let out a high-pitched scream of warning.

"K-K-Kleiver!" he quivered, pointing accusingly at the large Wastelander. Erol looked towards where Jak was pointing. Indeed, Kleiver was there.

"It's Vaseline, _Vaseline on toast_! And it's spreading like it's never been spread before!" Kleiver sang obnoxiously loud and out of tune. Erol grimaced at his interpretation of music. More unsettling still, was the fact that Kleiver was in fact, doing just as his song had suggested. A large plate of toast was at his side, and one by one, each slice was being slathered with an inch thick layer of Vaseline.

When the entire plate had been 'buttered' with the Vaseline, Kleiver got to his feet and, brandishing that plate of toast, he waddled over to Ashelin and Razer's picnic. Kleiver's large round shadow alerted Ashelin that they weren't alone first, but for Razer, the smell had warned him of Kleiver's presence the moment the Wastelander had stepped within a certain radius.

"G'Day Sheila," Kleiver grinned as he moved to stand before Ashelin.  
"And what do _you _want?" Ashelin asked suspiciously.  
"Care for some tucker?" Kleiver offered the plate. Razer turned his nose up instantly.  
"What on earth have you tainted that wholegrain bread with, you repulsive man?" Razer spat.  
"Vaseline!" Kleiver barked defensively. "I'll have you know it keeps me regular, it does!"

Razer vomited a little in his mouth. "Who on earth told you to eat such a thing?" Razer scoffed after he'd regained himself.  
"The Spargus Doctor!" Kleiver stated.  
"And who is _that_?" Razer asked, not figuring anyone with a _real _medical degree would be in that Wasteland city.  
"I AM!" Kleiver growled.  
"Case in point…" Razer rolled his eyes.  
"Smarmy little…I don't like you," Kleiver mumbled darkly to Razer, muttering further crude things under his breath as well. "Mind if I take a seat?" he then asked Ashelin.  
"Sure…" Ashelin sighed in defeat, rolling her eyes.  
"Beaut," Kleiver smirked. The large Wastelander sat down on the mat next to Ashelin. An unpleasant squishing noise coincided with Kleiver sitting down, and Ashelin briefly wondered what it was. When muffled mumbling filled the air, she further wondered.  
"What's that noise?" she asked aloud.  
"I don't hear _nothin'_," Kleiver shrugged, chewing his toast.

Ashelin continued to turn her head every which way, searching for the source of the noise. Eventually she spotted a writhing gloved hand, attached to a pale wrist, which disappeared under Kleiver's large bottom. She wondered why she had not noticed that Razer had been sat on earlier, and then it dawned on her that she simply didn't care.

"Nyeh…" she shrugged.

In fact, it was safe to say that Erol was a tad more concerned about the situation than what Ashelin was.

"Lord Baron, Sir," he asked, "Are you _sure _that this is all going to plan?"  
"Y-yes!" Praxis blurted out defensively, sweat forming on his face as his beady eye darted around shiftily.  
"But…he just sat on, and probably smothered, Razer," Erol quirked an eyebrow at the Baron.  
"OH!" Jak piped up, "I get it! You sent Kleiver out to make Ashelin jealous!"  
"_Exactly_!" Praxis boomed.  
"What? But…how does that work? It doesn't make any sense!" Erol argued. Alas, he was ignored.

It was unclear whether Kleiver himself knew that he'd sat on Razer. Most people would probably like to believe that the Wastelander had sat on the Racer on purpose, to get back at him for his smarmy attitude. Well, it doesn't need to be pointed out that Kleiver is an enigma, so who really knew _what _that guy was thinking. Certainly not _I_… Regardless on his standing, or perhaps _sitting_, on the situation, he was one _smooth player_ right now.

"So, _Sweetheart_, you doin' anything tonight?" Kleiver smiled suggestively, leveraging his brow up and down flirtatiously. Ashelin regarded him with a blank, unimpressed look for a moment.  
"That's it, I'm outta this game," she plainly stated, and alongside a comical popping sound she vanished into thin air.  
"Whatever, no skin off _my _nose," Kleiver shrugged uncaringly, scratching his backside.

* * *

Praxis lived out the next few days whilst constantly stuck in a mad panic. Everywhere he went he hopped from foot to foot, whining pathetically in a high-pitched tone as though he were about to cry. Well, the Baron _had _lost his daughter to the Precursors knows where, so he had a right to be sad. _However_, the true reason he was so unhinged had nothing to do with Ashelin disappearing at all. More likely, it was because Erol had walked in on him reading a KFC catalogue in his bedroom, rather than a McDonalds one.

When Erol tried to explain to Praxis that it was perfectly fine and natural for him to explore his food choices, the Baron became very defensive, like a moody teenager, and disappeared for the next week to some unknown destination.

Praxis returned to the Palace in a far happier mood, and had stupidly planned the entire wedding whilst he was away, despite knowing full well that the bride for the occasion was in hiding. Dumber still, Praxis had already forked out all of the money for the wedding arrangements, and had invited everyone. When it was explained to Praxis that Ashelin still had not returned, he became rather nervous, to say the least. He spent the next week pacing the Throne Room, twenty-four hours a day, muttering under his breath. He fretted verbally about how much his wedding was going to be laughed at (especially by Damas, who had _stupidly _been invited in the first place). Occasionally, he would also babble on about how his city would be incomplete without Ashelin, complaining that Haven needed a "strong male Baroness such as herself" to keep things running after he went to the "big McDonalds restaurant in the sky" (as opposed to the big KFC restaurant under ground).

Wanting to lure Ashelin home, Praxis even went as far as to create a path of cheeseburgers, leading from the location where Ashelin had disappeared in the park, to the Palace door step. Ideally, this _might've _worked, if Ashelin loved food as much as her father; but on the contrary, it made things several million times worse when a second Baron somehow spawned out of nowhere and followed the food path to the Palace. The inhabitants of the Palace endured the belligerent antics of two Baron Praxises for a few days. Finally, it all returned to normal when the two of them accidentally collided with each other (at full speed) in their mad panic to reach the kitchen at lunchtime. One of them had randomly disappeared as a result of the accident, perhaps inducted into the other's stomach upon impact.

Erol decided it was best to offer Praxis some good news today, the day before the wedding. He waltzed into the Throne Room purposefully.

"Sir, I just wanted to inform you that Razer is still squashed against Kleiver's backside. Even if Ashelin doesn't show up, at least we know the _Groom_ won't be going anywhere," Erol said. Lately Erol began to wonder whether that had _really _been the Baron's idea all along – to imprison Razer against Kleiver's bottom to prevent him escaping.  
"Good, good," Praxis muttered, barely glancing at Erol.

"I imagine those two, Kleiver and Razer, must be getting rather well acquainted these days," Veger laughed smugly as he strolled into the room.  
"Indeed…" Erol said glumly.  
"Perhaps those two should get married instead," Veger sneered.  
"Please Veger, I've no time for jokes," Erol sighed. "I'm worried, aren't you? If this wedding bombs, who knows what Baron Praxis will do? I hear from the guards that he's been looking for an excuse to execute a bomb dive over the epicentre of Haven City," Erol confessed.  
"So? He does that everyday," Veger waved him off uncaringly.  
"Yes. But this time the Baron speaks of doing it _from outer space_," Erol said.  
"Dear lord, think of the impact zone…" Veger grimaced. Thoughts of _his _city being totally annihilated before he even had a chance to take it over flooded through Veger's mind. "We must not let that happen. We _have _to get Ashelin back," he said.  
"Easier said then done. _She _could be floating around in outer space right now for all we know," Erol scoffed, rolling his eyes.  
"Hmm…then, perhaps not _Ashelin_," Veger mused, deep in thought.  
"What are you saying?" Erol asked. "Wait, are you suggesting we find a stand in?" he suddenly thought.  
"And I know the _perfect _fit," Veger sneered.

* * *

The next day rolled by, equipped with Veger's dastardly plan. The nonexistent Haven City Park made a beautiful backdrop for the Wedding Ceremony. As was to be predicted, Praxis was very on edge. His face was sweaty and flushed, and he kept mangling wedding brochures up in his beefy hands distractedly. Once or twice he'd nearly bum-rushed the food table and consumed the showy wedding cake out of nervousness. Thankfully Sig had been on call nearby to the table, brandishing a book entitled "Weight Loss Secrets". It had scared Praxis away faster than sunlight got rid of Dracula.

On the other side of the Ceremony area, there was a wooden altar cemented into the ground. Razer was chained to this altar. Occasionally, Praxis made special effort to waft over to him, threatening him with a water pistol full of _cheap _cologne. The pistol immediately made Razer's complaints turn to pleas of mercy.

"Please, Baron Praxis, your daughter isn't even coming! Have mercy, let me go," Razer begged.  
"How dare you! My _son _would _never_ leave me in the heat of _battle_!" Praxis bellowed back defensively, still having faith that Ashelin would have a turn around and show up. The fact that Praxis was now referring to this ceremony as a battle unsettled a few people, particularly Vin who failed so hard at containing his terror that he shrieked like a little girl and tripped over in his mad panic to escape, landing square into the punch fountain. When he emerged, soaked in red _Kool Aid_, he mistakenly thought he was covered in blood and fainted, landing back in the fountain where he floated atop the surface, face down and not moving.

Damas arrived at the ceremony and scooped himself a cup of the Kool Aid. He took it to his designated seat – the chair closest to the aisle in the front row – and reclined his arms out, his leg crossed. He elegantly sipped at his Kool Aid, painfully loud, and he stared at the Baron smugly. Praxis briefly wondered which _fool_ had invited Damas, let alone which _idiot _had arranged for the Sand King to have the most prominent seat. His beady eye scowled. When he found the _nincompoop_ responsible for this injustice, he would throttle them, and then force them to consume an _entire _lettuce as punishment. The thought of this evil, _torturous _method of punishment brought a temporary smile to the Baron's face.

Praxis decided, completely out of the blue, that _Erol _had probably invited Damas. This enraged the Baron.  
"Where's Erol?" he barked at a nearby guard.  
"It was his job to chauffer the Bride, wasn't it, Lord Baron, Sir?" the Guard asked. "Perhaps he's waiting or…_hoping_ to pick her up elsewhere?" he suggested. Praxis either accepted this theory, or perhaps zoned out and forgot where he was. Either way he seemed to simmer down.

The Krimzon Guard was not far from the mark, for Erol was currently at the Underground.

"Why are they here?" Torn roared, brandishing his knife in the direction of Erol and Veger. "They _shouldn't_ be in here!" he protested.  
"Calm _down, _Torn," Tess sighed, fumbling through her makeup supplies for some lipstick.  
"NEVER! I want them _out_!" he yelled. "And you," he turned his attention to the object of Tess' attention, "Get out of that Wedding Dress! I won't have this! _Not _in my Underground," he raved.  
"Shove off!" was the reply sent to Torn.

"Torn, why don't you just go get ready for the Wedding? We'll be leaving soon," Tess suggested.  
"No! I ain't goin'! I want no part of it! I can't stand the thought of Ashelin marrying that creep," Torn ranted.  
"Ashelin _won't _be marrying Razer. That's the whole point of this," Erol sighed, indicating towards Tess and their stand-in bride.  
"It's the principal of it!" Torn pouted.  
"There, all done!" Tess suddenly chimed.  
"Hmm…something's missing," Erol mused.  
"I know what it is," Veger declared, extracting a grey-blue crayon from his pocket. He messily scribbled Ashelin's tattoo pattern onto the face of their stand-in. "Ah, perfect!" he declared when he was done.

"I don't know about this, Veger," Erol mumbled, "Are you _sure_ Praxis will buy this?"  
"Of course he will. He's _Praxis _isn't he?" Veger scoffed.  
"I suppose. Though I still can't decide why on earth you thought this one was a _perfect match _to Ashelin," Erol sighed.  
"Well, perhaps not to you, but after everything she's put me through, I can see _many _similarities between these two," Veger declared stubbornly. This comment offended Torn, who quickly and very aggressively ejected the intruders from his Underground. With nothing left to lose, Erol, Veger and their stand-in Bride piled into Praxis' custom Hellcat and zoomed off towards the park.

By the time they got there, everyone was sitting in their rightful seats, and Praxis was jumping about awkwardly on his toes at the end of the aisle near the altar. His face lit up immediately when his hellcat pulled up at the opposite end of the aisle.

"Here goes nothing," Erol swallowed a lump in his throat. He leapt out of the driver's seat and acted the part, reaching to help the stand-in bride to get out of the hellcat.  
"You coppin' a feel?" the stand-in bride glowered at Erol.  
"Just get out of the damn hellcat!" Erol glared back, grabbing a bundle of the bride's flab and tugging. The bride growled and muttered darkly, climbing out of the hellcat in a very crude-looking manor.  
"Now shove off!" the bride demanded. Praxis had bounded over by now. Erol hastily moved aside.  
"Ashelin!" Praxis beamed, "You made it!"  
"She sure did!" Erol laughed nervously, inching his way back towards the hellcat, in case a hasty retreat was needed. Praxis paid little heed to Erol. He was busy marvelling at what he blindly assumed was his daughter, or perhaps his _son_.

"Wow, Ashelin," Praxis gasped, "I know you were a little boy when you left, but I _never _expected you to come back as a grown _woman_," he stared in awe at _Ashelin's_ maroon moustache.  
"G'Day, Pa!" Kleiver boomed, smoothing out his large wedding dress and slicking down his dyed maroon hair. "Where are you keeping the stubbies?" he asked casually. Thankfully Praxis was too dense to notice anything amiss. He looped his large arm around Kleiver's.  
"Shove off!" Kleiver roared, shoving Praxis into the crowd of seated people nearby. "Don't you get fresh with me on my wedding day!" he glared. Praxis chortled proudly, pulling himself off a squashed Onin.  
"How strong you've gotten!" he giggled at his _daughter_, prying Pecker out from between his bottom cheeks_._

Razer could not quite make out what was headed his way down the aisle, but he was quite certain it was far too fat and clumsy to be Ashelin. A funny smell wafted over from that direction, and Razer felt his blood run cold. That smell, that _horrible _smell. It was the same aroma he'd noticed in the air the previous week when that _Kleiver _had come over to that faux picnic the Baron had set up.

"No…no," Razer uttered, panic rising as he struggled against the shackle on his wrist. "NO!" be screamed when Kleiver's ominous form came into clear view. The Wastelander had a large grin on his face, revealing a yellowed sprig of decaying broccoli between two of his teeth. Even the makeup slathered on his face could not make him look pretty.

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a priest," Seem glared at Praxis once he'd reached the altar with Kleiver.  
"The same amount of times _I _have to tell you that I'm hungry," Praxis retorted cheerfully. "Now get on with it," he hissed at Seem. Seem rolled her eyes and groaned. Razer continued to try and pull himself free from his shackle, contemplating burning his hand off with his cigarette lighter in order to free himself. He began to desperately fumble through his pocket, searching for his lighter. All the while Kleiver grinned at him darkly. Seem was mumbling away in the background, reciting the usual wedding drivel.

Razer was fast realizing that he did not have his lighter on him. Somehow though, he thought that if he checked all his pockets again for the seventeenth time, maybe it would just appear in one of them.

"Do you, Razer, take this…_woman_, to be your lawfully wedded Wife?" Seem eventually drawled, interrupting Razer's desperate lighter search.  
"What?" the racer barked. "No! NEVER!" he wailed. Praxis sent a menacing look in Razer's direction. "You'll never take me alive!" Razer screamed. His desperation to get away had grown so immense, that with one clumsy tug he dislodged the wooden altar from its cement prison. He went tearing off across the park grounds, the altar dragging after him and Praxis hot on his heels. Damas' booming, condescending laughter pressured Praxis to retrieve his groom quicker rather than slower, so Razer was soon back where he'd started. Praxis had that water pistol with cheap cologne ammo in his beefy hand again, and he was pointing it into Razer's back.

"Do you, Razer, take this man uh…_woman _to be your lawfully wedded Wife?" Seem repeated unenthusiastically. The prodding of Praxis' water pistol into Razer's back choked a 'yes' from the racer.  
"And do you Kle-_ Ashelin_, take this man to be your lawfully wedded Husband?" Seem then asked. Kleiver did not respond. It was as though he did not realise he was being spoken to. A rock hurtled from Erol's hand and collided with the back of Kleiver's head.  
"SHOVE OFF!" Kleiver bellowed angrily, covering everyone with spit. Razer noted, with much horror, that that old sprig of broccoli had now disappeared from Kleiver's teeth and began fretting that it was in his hair.  
"I'm quite bored, so I'll take that as yes," Seem sighed, "You may kiss the bride." She rolled her eyes and strolled away, not caring to partake in the rest of the 'marriage'.  
"I ain't kissin' no one! Ain't no Euro pretty boy getting' a taste of _my _goods," Kleiver growled, shaking his fist at Razer threateningly. Razer breathed out a sigh of relief (as did everyone else, bar Praxis).

"Now, where's that cake?" Kleiver asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he scouted the surrounding area for the food table. He soon spotted the large wedding cake, towering over all the other foods on the buffet table. What the large Wastelander did next was either very rude or very strategic. "Blimey this dress is hot," he complained, pulling at it. He pulled it too far down and exposed his flabby cleavage and hairy chest. All the wedding guests saw this heinous sight and fled from the area while screaming, chairs being knocked over in the process.

"Check and _mate_," Kleiver snarled to himself, waddling to the cake. He stuffed a large portion of the cake into his mouth with the use of his grubby hands. Afterwards, he grabbed several other large handfuls of cake and began stuffing it into his wedding dress, presumably to save it for later. When finally he was done gathering the cake, he returned to Razer and the sobbing Praxis.

"Where's my honeymoon?" he demanded, his makeup now smeared and his face flecked with white icing. Before Razer could protest, he was grabbed around the neck and dragged, by Kleiver, back down the wedding aisle towards his own Havoc V12, which had miraculously appeared. The wooden altar followed the couple, still attached to Razer's wrist. On the way to his Havoc, Razer caught sight of Veger and Erol looking rather pleased with themselves, and it dawned on him that they'd had something do to with this. Razer managed to break free of Kleiver's hold momentarily.

"I do not understand! What are _you _getting out of all this?" Razer asked, knowing full well that Kleiver would not have gone through with this without some form of payment.  
"Simple," Kleiver grinned evilly. "Once I divorce your sorry arse, I get my pick of your property," he patted the side of the Havoc V12 meaningfully. Still staring at Razer forebodingly, Kleiver walked backwards, climbing awkwardly into an ugly trailer that had been attached to the Havoc.

"_Where's my honeymoon_?" he repeated darkly. Razer could do nothing to argue, so instead he climbed into his Havoc (which was still damaged from the Baron's earlier escapade).  
"This is going to be a _long _honeymoon…" Razer sighed to himself, starting the engine. The two newlyweds sped off into the distance.

"I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe it _worked_," Erol muttered to Veger.  
"Eventually you will learn how genius I am," Veger declared snootily.  
"Perhaps I would take you more seriously if you didn't sleep with a Winnie The Pooh nightlight at night," Erol rolled his eyes.  
"I've already told you, that bear wards the Baron off!" Veger protested.  
"And I've already told _you _that there is simply no evidence to support that theory," Erol retorted.  
"Oh, so _that's _why he never barges into my room in the middle of the night!" Veger barked sarcastically. "One day you'll learn," he then growled darkly, strolling away.

Erol was left to survey the abandoned wedding area. Praxis had ceased sobbing and, perhaps forgetting the days events, had rushed over to the food table where he was consuming every morsel he could find. Toppled chairs lay scattered everywhere, the altar was destroyed and Vin was still floating lifelessly in the punch fountain.

"Hm, I wonder who'll clean this up?" Erol pondered to himself. Just as he said this, Erol saw the Baron rush over to the mangled remains of the wedding cake.  
"Who did this?" Praxis yelled angrily. "EROL!" he bellowed, his voice laden with blame. Erol promptly ran for his life.

* * *

Within the next few nights, Ashelin returned from wherever she'd been hiding. She strolled into the Throne Room to see how her father had been faring without her.

"Ah! Ashelin, I see you're back from your honeymoon!" Praxis declared happily. He was standing at the base of his throne's stairs.  
"Honeymoon?" Ashelin wondered aloud.  
"I'm glad to see you've shaved your moustache," Praxis went on. "I'm not sure you're ready for that kind of responsibility yet," he added.

Ashelin quirked an eyebrow, wondering what on earth her father was talking about. In her mind she questioned what exactly had happened while she was away, but eventually settled to decide she was far better off not knowing.

"Anyway, I've been doing some thinking," Praxis said, almost sheepishly.  
"Go on," Ashelin crossed her arms, half expecting an apology.  
"Well, you see…about the throne," Praxis fidgeted. "That is to say, after seeing how _large _you got to be on your wedding day, I'm not sure the throne can holdyour weight," he admitted casually.  
"What?" Ashelin scowled, resisting the urge to point out that Praxis _overflowed _over the edges of the little throne whenever he sat on it.  
"So I figure I'm going to have to give inheritance rights to your younger, suppler sibling," Praxis explained. Ashelin questioned who this sibling was exactly, dreading that Praxis had mistaken Erol as his son again. Her answer came when Praxis ascended the stairs to his throne and then patted his large backside meaningfully.

"Yep, she'll never let me down," he sighed contently, sitting down on the throne. Ashelin glared up at him angrily.  
"What?" Praxis simply asked.  
"Well, I'll just leave you alone with your _Baron of a butt, _then," Ashelin spoke with venom in her voice. She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. At least two minutes passed after she'd left, when the floor beneath the throne began to crack under the Baron's weight. The stairway began to crumble and sent Praxis, still seated in the throne, tumbling down them to the ground. When he hit the base floor of the throne room, the ground gave way again. He passed through a few floors before he landed in a dark, dimly lit room.

"Oh, it was a good thing _Ashelin _didn't take the throne, otherwise that freefall _never _would've ended," Praxis chuckled, not sparing a thought to where it was exactly that he'd landed. A shaky scream erupted out of the darkness a moment later, and the room was flooded with light as the door was flung open and someone ran out into the hallway.

"Erol, I was _wrong_! That cursed yellow bear did nothing! SAVE ME!" Veger screamed, running for his life.

Praxis chuckled to himself and reclined in his throne. He hoped that no one would _ever _take this away from him, for how he _loved _to be Baron.


	33. Baron MythWar

**Corad: It's been quite while since Palace Stories had an update lol. We've had a few requests for chapters lately, which we are working on getting done. For the time being though, this is a random, idiotic situation I felt inspired to write about. Recently I joined an online gaming site called Myth War. It's been somewhat fun but I'm scared of ppl with leader flags above their heads and usually run for my life whenever I see one. Yeah...(shifty eye thing) Well, after playing this game, I somehow fused it with Praxis to create this horrendous chapter. If you're not sure what this game is, you should still be able to understand what's happening. If you have played this before, then it'll just add onto the stupidity of things. For those of you who haven't yet experienced this game, you should O.O It's very fun :) Anyhow, moving on...**

**We don't own Jak and Daxter, Myth War or anything else ripped off in this chapter.**

* * *

**Palace Stories – I would say that this has been exaggerated, but I took part of this from my own embarrassing experience…**

**Baron Myth-War**

It had been a pleasant morning in the Palace. The guards had been patrolling the numerous halls while they exchanged sniggers about Praxis and his oversized underwear, Ashelin had finally gotten the sleep in she'd been wishing since she could remember, Veger had successfully dislodged Praxis' pool skimmer from his ceiling fan which for some reason had been tossed there by the large man himself, and Erol had ventured to the kitchen and back, still alive without any Baron based hassles. Yes, all was going to plan in the happy, lovable Palace. That is, until Praxis' thunderous screams could be heard emitting from his room. It was a sound that everyone was familiar with and feared.

"You stupid worthless heap of (Beep)! I expect you to work, coz I want to play!" Praxis roared, smashing his fist into the computer desk, making the mouse and keyboard skip across the surface. His eye twitched unpleasantly at the site of the error message on the monitor screen, resembling something such as "Server full. Try again later". Yes, the sight enraged him. It was defying his mighty position as a chimney sweep…uh, Baron…

"Sir, what's all the noise about?" Erol asked timidly, peering his face through the door crack to see what horrors the Baron was getting up to. "You're disrupting the peace again…the peace we've all worked so hard to obtain ever since you took the throne by will."

"Not now Ashrol…Mummy's trying to work out how to get her favorite game to work…" Praxis replied subconsciously, waving a meaty hand in Erol's general direction. It was the well known gesture of "get the hell out before I make you" wave. Erol didn't seem to move though; too intent on seeing what was on the Baron's computer screen.

"Oh, so you've joined too, have you? The majority of our guard rank has also joined…probably explains why they never show up to work anymore…slackers…" Erol added in a low mutter, wandering across the Baron's pig sty of a room to the computer. Up close the commander could see the problem resulting in Praxis' raging mood. The small, dark box with happy colorful writing was the whole reason to another possible rampage. It was a miracle something so small could lead to something so terrifyingly huge.

"No, I didn't join the guard ranks Erol…I joined Myth War, because I would like to rule over this fantasy game land where strange looking people roam freely," Praxis replied, clicking on another server this time and waiting patiently for it to load. It struggled for a few moments before coming up with the error message again, pushing his raging mood one step closer to the "knock Veger out the window" stage to release pent up anger. How many times had poor Veger suffered in the emergency ward again?

"O…kay…well if it helps at all, I'm on the California server, and I haven't experienced any server denials yet," Erol informed, making up some lame storyline to get the Baron to calm down somewhat even though he'd never played the game in his life. It seemed to have worked, because Praxis fell back into his serene state of mind, a large grin on his face while he clicked on the last server option on the list. After a couple of moments, the screen changed to a log-on menu and the Baron began typing in his username (LordKingSirBaron) and his password (Erolsmellsbad) before it changed yet again.

"Now, we wait for all the Myth War slaves to bow down to their lord…and I shall be their king, and rid them of any fantasy based hope," the large man said heroically, clicking on his newly made character which appeared to be some form of large male cyborg named "Maisy". He then entered the game, making continuous victory chants as the server connected him to the main system.

Erol could only stand back and watch the horror unfold. Not only had the Baron devastated the perception of reality in Haven and all surrounding cities, he was also challenging the game now. It was something Erol unconsciously felt would happen since he heard of the game's name amongst his guard. Maybe it was a hunch, or maybe he just knew since everything else led to a destructive rampage, and what made Myth War any different exactly? Nothing was safe while Praxis was around.

"Ah, isn't he beautiful Erol…come and bask in the loving glow of the Myth War screen…" Praxis said quietly, patting the seat beside him with a large hand. Erol wasn't technically in a position to deny that offer, so he sat down on the spare computer chair hesitantly and watched on with fearful eyes as the Baron made his first move towards the guide man standing in an outside location. It wasn't a big move as one would expect, but the simple action led to absolute chaos.

"What? Give me that damn Myth Book War Book Myth guide, you overturned beef trolley!" Praxis shouted at the small, ancient looking man on the screen. It had appeared that the Baron failed answering this man's set of newbie questions, thus failed to get the guide book. Something Praxis would surely need the way he was going.

"Um Sir…maybe if you try the quiz again, you may win this time…" Erol suggested in the hopes of calming his Baron down. Praxis sat pondering for a minute, eyes blank and staring at the screen while his brain worked less than 1 mile an hour.

"Maybe you're right Erger…maybe you're right…" Praxis replied, patting what he thought was Erol's shoulder, when in reality it was the pot plant sitting on his other side in the corner. "Ok wise guy, I'm gonna beat your wrath, and then create a wrath of my own, to crush your wrath further into the undeniable depths of wrath failure," he hissed, his eye slit while he hunched over the keyboard to attempt the set of Myth War based questions again. After a few more failed goes, and a lot of cursing and crying…yes, crying…a guard which had just so happened to be passing by his room, stepped in and rushed to the computer, fanning his eyes and crying in what appeared to be panic.

"No! No! That's not the answer! It's TAB! TTTAAAAABBBB!" he screamed, pointing at the option labeled "Tab" on the screen. Praxis nodded in understanding, and hunched even further over the keyboard, reducing the space between himself and the monitor even more. In fact, his "nose" was basically touching the monitor…sweat began pouring down his brow, eye wide in concentration while he slowly moved the cursor past the other option which was F2, and onto "tab". Both the guard and Praxis gave a sigh of relief when they heard the click of the mouse, and were congratulated by the man on winning the Myth War book at last.

The sight began to give Erol uneasy feelings. Not only was this guard a player of this online game, but he appeared to be addicted to it, and the way he reacted to Praxis almost answering that mini map question wrong for the fiftieth time, it seemed like it was a reality to him. Maybe people really did think Myth War was a reality…a reality soon to be destroyed by the lovable Baron.

"Ok, I think we survived for now Sir. That was a close call. You should know by now TAB gets the mini map up on screen," the guard explained, collapsing on his knees between Erol and Praxis out of exhaustion.

"It's my first day," Praxis replied, eying the guard beside him. The guard, which we shall now call um…err…Sack…err…Sacker… Sackermon, gave Praxis a weary look before rising to his feet and dashing out the room, reappearing a second later with another chair and what resembled a Bible tucked under his arm. When Sackermon forcefully forced a gap for his chair between Erol and the Baron, the commander managed to catch a glimpse of the large book's title.

"Myth War Guidebook? Where the heck did you get that thing?" Erol cried in astonishment as the guard flipped it to page one, and scanned down the text for a short while before stopping and crying aloud that he'd found the prayer they needed.

"I purchased this book from the Myth War merchandise shop near the Port. They have tones of stuff…" Sackermon muttered, pulling a dark brown robe out from nowhere and slipping it on. The sight reminded Erol of a monk, even the way he held the guidebook and had the robe hood up. It was an eerie display to witness, but the commander kept his mouth shut, and watched as Praxis navigated his Maisy cyborg character up some stairs to find another cyborg looking thing.

"Ok, I've found the battle master, now what?" Praxis asked, deep in his gaming trance to notice another couple of random guards sneak into his room. They arranged themselves behind the Baron, their eyes locked onto the game while Sackermon began reading his magical cheating book.

"You must speak to him my Lord, and fight until death. Whomever wins, shall be victorious!" Sackermon shouted in a heroic tone, much resembling the one Praxis was using before. He even sounded remotely like an old English citizen, possibly of the Monk origin. But Sackermon's accent wasn't what confused Erol to no end; it was what he'd just said that did.

"He'd technically be victorious if he won, so what's the point of saying he'd be victorious if it's obvious?" Erol muttered, raising an eyebrow at the imitation Monk and his Baron who was now giving him glances of hatred. They were the same glances Praxis was known to give to those who ruined his fun, particularly Veger and his squadron of weight watchers who for some reason felt it their duty to follow the Baron around. In fact, his weight watching team had wandered into the room shortly after the couple of guards, and although they should have been ushering Praxis away from the computer, they were egging him on.

"Quick Lord Maisy! Beat the cyborg who shall stand in thou way, and flee to the stairs of the pet breeder!" a female elf cried, also imitating that olden English accent.

"I understand," Praxis nodded, clicking on the cyborg and selecting the "battle" option. The battle went relatively painless, the Baron having to seek aid from his many onlookers now who were crowded behind him, all wearing strange costumes and speaking weirdly. He finally emerged from his battle victorious, and began chanting and lifting his arms above his head. Unfortunately, a few of the random people behind him passed out from the sudden smell of death, unable to take the force upon impact of such a toxic stench.

"Father! What the heck is going on?" Ashelin groaned, stopping by to see how her father was going, considering she hadn't seen him today, and he'd been unusually quiet for a while now. Getting no response whatsoever, she barged her way in between the ever increasing crowd, and stopped to stare in horror at her father's computer screen. "Please don't tell me you joined this? Now there's no escaping him," she growled in defeat, slumping off back through the crowd before leaving the room entirely. Erol knew exactly how she felt. Well, kinda anyway. It was like school holidays. They are meant to be fun, right? WRONG! If the teacher just so happened to have given assignments out, a day before the holidays begin, you can bet you'll have schoolwork to do in your only free time and haven. But how that relates to the Baron and myth War, I'm not entirely sure…so moving on…

Quite a while had gone by since the Baron started playing this new online game, and he gained quite a few supporters, ranging from KG, wastelanders, average citizens, a couple of dark makers, and our loving hero, Jak himself. Damas had also made an appearance, but was uh…"removed" from the premises after he kept trying to take control of the mouse. It was going all well for Praxis, but the novelty of having so many fans, just began to wear off. He soon told everyone to get out, including the loyal Sackermon and his book of aid, and was left with only Erol, still fearing where this was going and how much of an impact it would make on the city's wellbeing.

"Now my faithful commander, which way should I go?" Praxis asked suddenly, coming to a dead end in the first dungeon he was in, the only possible way forward being a blue portal on the ground. Erol eyed his Baron carefully who was looking at him in expectancy, before shifting his gaze to the screen.

"Sir, use the portal," the Commander muttered in a monotone, eyes half lidded and face blank and looking bored. Praxis nodded his head and clicked on the portal, his character momentarily disappearing earning a terrified squeak from the large man himself, before reappearing in a bright, happy looking place.

"Oh…my…God…I've think I've reached it Erol! I've reached my ruling lands…the lands I'm gonna rule!" the Baron shouted in joy, pressing TAB to bring up his mini map. He began drooling over the keyboard at the wondrous sight, taking in the size of the place, while also looking at the shops and such labeled on the map that this foreign land had to offer. Erol rolled his eyes beside him, resting his chin in an open palm and sighing. Not only was the Baron invading the holy Gaming land's precious soil, he was also A) Hogging the phone line so he couldn't make any important calls, B) He kept drooling all over the keyboard to a point sparks began flying out and C) it took him three hours to reach this place, which should've only taken him 30 minutes at the max.

"Now, I shall take this fairy girl as my wife, and together we will conquer this unsuspecting land," Praxis muttered, shifting his large Cyborg character towards a NPC (Computer character) nearby, dressed in pink. He began speaking to her, but when she started to request for Praxis to find her lost sister, he began screaming at the screen again. "I'm not a slave, fairy girl! I own you! You can't tell me what to do!"

"Uh, sir…one of the points to this game, is to do quests…she is giving you a quest, to find her sister," Erol sighed, slouching further into the chair seeing as though his bored level had almost reached its peak. Praxis made a noise to show his didn't quite understand what his commander was trying to say, and swiveled his head to look at the smaller man.

"Please explain…"

"Ok…you play this game to interact with people and to level up in dungeons. But you must also do quests…" Erol stopped in mid sentence to still see the Baron's confused face looking at him. "A quest is given to you by the computer generated characters, and you must travel around and do favors and such for them…" he explained without even waiting for Praxis to ask him to define the meaning of a 'Quest'.

"Oh, so this fairy machine thing, wants me to find his sister, because she can't find her son?" Praxis said, raising his eyebrow at Erol and his obvious stupidity. "Heh, like that's ever gonna happen!"

"But sir, you're looking for her sister! Speak to her again, and she'll give you directions on where to find her!" Erol cried, pointing at the fairy girl thing again. Praxis flicked his hand at him, and began chuckling.

"Prrrp, Erol…We're not looking for the fairy's son anymore…we're looking for her sister!"

"Exactly, so find her!"

"No need to shout commander. I do have ears you know…" Praxis responded, clicking on the pink dressed girl again and taking note of the coordinates where her sister apparently was. After closing her speech window, Praxis began to navigate his way down a dirt path, past a couple of other players who stood around aimlessly, before taking a wooden bridge through a large, hallow tree. He ended up on a boardwalk, and began panicking and pointing at Erol. "Erol, fix it!"

Groaning to himself, Erol reached over and brought up the mini map which he learned how to do thanks to Sackermon, who still hadn't crawled back. Erol was prepared to give the guard up to 4 hours to return, just to prove to himself that these idiots did in fact, worship Myth War and would do anything just to witness its glory. After bringing up the map, he scanned it until he spotted Praxis whereabouts, before finding the coordinates where the girl should be. It was a simple task to find her. All Praxis had to do was head east for a bit and she'd be there.

"Just head East Sir. I'm sure you can't miss her…she'll probably just be a repeat of the other fairy girl," Erol muttered, slouching back into his chair after he'd closed the map down. Praxis clapped his hands together, and gripped the mouse in determination before moving his cursor to begin the journey yet again. However, either the baron had completely ignored Erol's directions, or he didn't know what way East was…because a few moments later, he ended up at a large, wooden door, arguing with a ticket keeper about wanting to get past.

"When I say open this door, I mean it! You ticket eating, door barricading, fun ruiner!" Praxis yelled, pointing a threatening finger at the gate keeper. But we all know computer generated characters can't technically hear what we're saying, or respond, so the whole ordeal of arguing with something that can't argue back, Erol felt was a complete waste of time. He had to physically take hold of the mouse and direct Maisy down the dirt path, down some stairs, back across the boardwalk and lake and down another path before finally finding the lost sister, the whole time Praxis still arguing with the gate keeper even though he/she wasn't on screen anymore.

And so, after finally reporting back to the fairy near the previous portal and getting the reward, Praxis felt it time to start to level up. He began to wander down the path towards a large tree, and walked into the blue portal at the base of the trunk. "Commander…what kind of unholy land is this?" Praxis whined, looking around at the dark, greenish place while moving his cyborg down the path.

"Sir, that's a dungeon…"

"You dare put me in the dungeon? I'll kill you Erol!" Praxis boomed, thrusting his fist in front of the commander's face. Erol backed away by instinct, and toppled off his chair, landing hard on his ass.

"No…a dungeon is a place to train by fighting enemies," Erol growled, getting slowly to his feet while rubbing the pain out his tail bone. Praxis' confused face appeared again, and the commander could only stand and stare at him, wondering how he could've confused himself now.

"So, we ride trains to crush enemies…Erol, where is this enemy killing train you speak of?" the Baron demanded, stroking his beard while bringing up the mini map again. He scanned his eye across the map, and snorted when he couldn't see anything labeled 'Trains'. "Commander, you're so silly! There aren't any trains here!"

"Grrr…no, Baron Sir. You fight enemies to gain experience points, which then get converted to levels," Erol muttered, seating himself back on the chair. Praxis chuckled loudly at his commander, shaking his head in a way that said "Erol you big idiot!".

"Well, if there aren't any trains, why did you say it?"

"Uh, because it's what you call it when you level up! You train a character to level up!" Erol practically yelled, his last drain of patience slipping away, just like that time he stood on Praxis' large burger in the stairwell and he slipped down endless amounts of stairs.

"Oh, I see! I get trains now! Ok, so if we train our way through this dungeon, I will level up, yes? I understand…" It wasn't long since the Baron had said that, had he navigated through the "Tree Of Life 1" dungeon, and appeared in the "Tree Of Life 2" dungeon. Erol was sure Praxis would stop at the 2nd Tree, considering he knew the enemies would be somewhat more powerful in the following levels, but this _is_ Praxis we're talking about.

It was surprising that Praxis made it to Tree Of Life 4 without many casualties. Of course, his newly acquired pet that he'd gotten at the start of his game, Sir Bloodpede the 2nd, had died in the first battle and left Maisy all alone. It only took one enemy attack in the fourth Tree to kill Maisy for good, and Praxis sat speechless, frowning as the screen went black.

"Sir, maybe you should stick to the beginner's dungeons…I believe the fourth Tree Of Life Dungeon was for more…how should I put this…_experienced_ players," Erol said slowly, watching as Praxis' cyborg reappeared at the Revival place back at the main area with the fairy and her sister. From Praxis' silence, Erol knew he was struggling to come to terms with the failure of dying. However, all failure was forgotten when he accidentally stumbled across a nurse character after walking again.

"I…I think I've found my wife, Erol…isn't she lovely?" Praxis asked, asking the computer generated nurse for the tenth time to heal his character, even though he had been already healed after dying in his last battle. Erol looked at the poor nurse, then to Praxis, and then to a character who was creeping up behind Maisy. This character was a female human warrior, by the name of Daman. Only takes one guess as to who this could be…

"Com…commander…I don't mean to alarm you, but this girl warrior man girl is trying to talk to me…and now she's challenging me to a duel! Erol! Kill it!" Praxis cried, watching as this female warrior forced Praxis' cyborg warrior into combat. Praxis was still oblivious as to who the other player was. Even though the name was basically the same as his real name. And I can tell ya know, this player still holds a grudge from when he was rudely removed from the Palace. Yep, you know who it is…

"Sir, just fight him! This can be your chance to finally show him who the better man is!" Erol encouraged, watching as Praxis took a feeble attack upon the female warrior and missed. Again it only took one direct hit from the enemy to kill Praxis' precious Maisy, and soon the Baron reappeared at the revival spring, feeling defeat yet again. Soon after 'Daman' wandered up to Praxis, and began talking to him.

"Now that I kicked your sorry ass Praxis, how about surrendering Haven city back!" Yes, upon seeing those words written above the warrior girl, Praxis knew exactly who his opponent had been…even though the name is…ya know…

"You! You demon fiend! Get out! I'll kill you Damas!" Praxis roared, grabbing Erol by the neck and strangling him to a point that the commander collapsed off the chair.

"Sir…Damas is on the screen…or to be more technical, probably back at his own Palace based residence in Spargus, playing on his laptop," Erol said hoarsely, clambering back to the chair while massaging his neck. Praxis looked sheepish at his mistake, and turned to Daman again, before challenging him…err…'her' to another spar. You'd think after an hour worth of defeated sparring the Baron would give up, wouldn't you? Well, again…this is Praxis we're talking about, so…

"Just give up… you good for nothing… know nothing… know it all…_why you_," Praxis read Damas' message aloud, gripping the mouse tightly in his hand, the cracking noise telling Erol it was getting dangerously close to breaking. He hurriedly pried Praxis' hand off it, and took the mouse himself, before making Maisy walk away from the offender quickly. Obviously the Baron was too much of a man to learn the term "defeat", and he didn't wanna ruin his pride by walking away from Damas' character, even though losing repeatedly would probably damage his pride more than anything. But still, Erol finally made Maisy escape, and soon the large cyborg was standing in front of the "Tree Of Life" portal again.

Praxis had taken up the controls again, once he'd somewhat calmed down from his Damas encounter, and began contemplating going back in the Tree of Life Dungeon. The memory of dying before held him back, but Erol kept explaining to him the first level is safe for beginners. The two were arguing for a little while, Erol telling Praxis that if he didn't go in and train, Maisy would never get stronger. And Praxis kept saying Damas would probably be down there, to ruin his manly pride further. It was only when another player wandered up to Maisy and ask whether he wanted to party up with them, did the two stop arguing.

"Commander…the game's talking to me again…" Praxis whispered, nudging Erol in the side with an almighty elbow. Erol just sat in silence, watching as the player asked Praxis again whether they'd like to party up.

"Sir…I think…you're being invited to join a party…" Erol replied, also in a low whisper.

"But I don't like going to parties, unless I am the host," Praxis whispered in return, eyeing Erol, then Maisy, and then finally to the other player who was a female mage.

"No, I mean a fighting party."

"Aren't parties meant to be fun and full of dancing, not fighting?"

"No, I mean she's asking you whether you want to join her so you can fight monsters together," Erol tried to explain, the two of them still whispering for some reason as if scared the other player could hear them through the internet. Praxis sat thinking for a while, before finally deciding that she could be his new wife, except a thought struck him that maybe this was Damas again. That old man was always known for dressing up as female counterparts, so there was a likely chance he was back for round…78.

"No, Damas will not outsmart me again. How do you reply to this...mage…?" Praxis asked, looking around his screen for something that resembled a reply option or the chat option. He started panicking however when he couldn't find out how to reply, the mage still standing there waiting for him to agree or not to join up with her. He began randomly clicking the icons located around the screen, muttering in fast forward the things he regretted in life, all the while prodding Erol unconsciously in the side to help him.

"Sir, why don't you calm down, and try to find the reply button like the sensible Baron you are…" Erol suggested, growing weary of the constant prodding motion in his side, and hearing numerous things about Praxis ruining people's childhood dreams in his quick mutterings. Some things he wished he didn't hear, like what really happened to Santa Clause to make him stop coming to Haven City.

"No…No commander…I can't find it…you, find it! FIND IT!" Praxis screamed in panic, still fumbling around with the controls to reply to the Mage player. He threw the mouse at Erol, who ducked just in time, the thing soaring narrowly past his head before the cord was yanked out the back of the computer tower. Praxis then stood up off his chair, and ran screaming out of the room in a mad dash to escape it all. So Erol was left to watch the Mage wander off, obviously fed up of waiting for Maisy to reply, and probably thinking about how much of an idiot the real player was for not replying. If only she knew the truth... and so, after that incident, Praxis never ventured near Myth War again…for half an hour. Within the time space of 30 minutes, he'd forgotten about the incident, plugged the mouse back in and resumed playing.

At the whole beginning of this Myth War ordeal, Erol believed Praxis would be thorough when taking over the gaming land, and quick too. However, it seems elf kind will be spared yet another forced reign taking over display. Not until Praxis actually proceeds further into the game will the gaming world be ruined…and from what we've seen so far, we don't have anything to really fear, do we?

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**Corad: I admit it wasn't that funny...I'm getting a bit rusty writing humor considering I haven't written any for quite a while. Been mainly writing for my Cry of the Wolf fic...again, if you haven't played Myth War at all, sorry if it doesn't make an aweful lot of sense. The part at the end where the Mage character comes talking to Praxis...that was a reality for me (lowers head in shame). I didn't read up on how to chat beforehand, and started panicking when I was asked to party up. There was a moment when I was gonna run screaming from the computer to leave Bijoux to deal with it coz I couldn't answer her. But uh, yeah...see, this kind of stupidity really does happen in reality. Also, Bijoux has been somewhat discouraged from writing Palace Stories. She found an MST on Baron Forklift, and wasn't too happy about it...even though it was written about a year ago, she says she doesn't like her work being ridiculed like that, especially behind her back. So until she decides to write again, I guess I'll be taking up the reins once more. I will aim to increase my stupidity levels again...hopefully my Yugioh fic will help me lol. Well, I hope everyone could enjoy this, and I'll see ya later sometime. Toodles :)**


	34. Gundamaxis

**Corad: Man, this story hasn't been updated for years...both Bijoux and I have started numerous new chapters, but it's finishing them that's the problem. Luckily though I managed to finish this one today thanks to a shove from Musashi the Master. This was his idea to begin with, so thanks Musashi for the input :) I haven't written anything funny in a while, so whether this is humerous or not. Also my humor writing style may have changed too, so just a warning lol. **

**I don't own any official stuff in here, and Musashi owns the initial idea. I just wrote it :D Also, I'll give a detailed disclaimer down the bottom since you guys would know what's coming lol. Please try to enjoy O.o**

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**Palace Stories - May have been exaggerated...knowing me it _has_ been.**

**Gundamaxis**

Things couldn't have been better in the Palace of Praxis. It was a day unlike any other, which made the Baron chuckle happily to himself as he flipped through yet another magazine. It had been exactly one hour since Praxis had watched _'it'_, and he became so fascinated by the whole concept that he just had to buy one for himself. How he'd managed to live all these years without one made him feel utterly ashamed. He was, after all, the greatest Baron on Earth. Shouldn't _he_ be entitled to a Gundam too? The answer was yes, although most of us wish it was no. And so, with the thought of purchasing a Gundam in mind, Baron Praxis begins his horrid tale of how he completely annihilated Haven City…again…

OOOOooooOOOO

"Ashelin! Ashelin!" Praxis screamed, smashing his hands into the wooden door leading to his daughter's bedroom. Bits of pink painted wood flew off in all directions, some even flying down the hallway to collide with the guards on duty. Their pained screams of wood-chip eye impalings could be heard echoing down the hallway and throughout the Palace, and the commander, five floors below, stopped to stare above.

"Dear Lord, what's he doing now?" Erol muttered, shaking his head and continuing on, trying to drown out the persistent screaming fit somewhere above.

"NO! Ashelin! Daddy wants you to pick one!" Praxis complained through the door, slouching against the wooden surface. His weight was soon too much for the door, and it fell in, exploding bits of wood everywhere. Sitting on her bed, Ashelin gave her father a dirty look.

"What do you want? I'm trying to read!" she growled, and Praxis did a snob flick from the floor, seeing "Barbie" written on the cover page of her magazine.

"Honey, who in their right mind would read that rubbish?" Praxis said, chuckling loudly at his remark. All chuckles were abruptly halted however, when Ashelin decided to reply in an aggravated tone.

"You would. It's your magazine, father! You forced me to read it last week, when for some reason, you were addicted to Barbie and Swan Lake!" Ashelin hissed, tossing the magazine at Praxis who cowered away from it.

"You dare throw a Barbie filthed reading diary at me?! Well maybe I can throw readings too!" Praxis argued, grabbing his own magazine and hurling it to the ceiling, watching as the ceiling fan's blades shredded it to bits. A few small pictures drifted down to Ashelin's lap, and she groaned inwardly, realizing just what it was.

"Father, why do you have Gundam magazines? Please don't tell me you're getting into that drabble." In reply, Praxis inched his way towards her, doing the shifty eye while trying to look inconspicuous. The way he was fidgeting though, was just the complete opposite.

"No Ashelin, daddy's going to buy one. All mobile suit pilots need a mobile suit, and I want a Gundam," Praxis corrected, his eye wide and gazing at Ashelin in a know-it-all way.

"Ok, and when did you become a mobile suit pilot?" She really wanted to know where this was heading _before_ her father destroyed the city again. The citizens had begun sending her hate mail from previous rampages, which she suspected was meant for Praxis, but since the Baron disliked hate mail, scribbled out _his_ name and wrote _hers_. It was an easy enough assumption, considering on some hate letters he hadn't even bothered to write her name in at all and just left his own.

"Since I killed Kira Yamato and stole his STRIKE Gundam," Praxis replied, still looking at Ashelin through that wide eye.

"Father, Kira Yamato is a character in an Anime show. How can you kill him if he doesn't exist?"

"How can _I_ die if _I_ don't exist?" Praxis pointed out, acting as if he were talking to a child. Ashelin struggled to answer that one, and was grateful when Erol suddenly barged in, pointing at a guard running around the hallway outside in mad panic.

"What have you been doing?! There are wood chips all down the hallway!" Erol shouted, before being dragged towards Praxis by a firm arm around his shoulders. Erol cringed when Praxis began laughing, his gut vibrating mere inches from his face.

"Heh, Commander! It's not what _I'm_ doing; it's what _you're_ doing! _You're_ going to go to Tokyo, and buy me this!" Praxis informed, forcing a cartoon illustration of a giant, robotic mobile suit under Erol's face. It took a few moments for the commander to realize what it was, before panic set in.

"Um, are you sure it's wise to bring such a…_foreign_ machine to Haven, sir?" Erol tried to wheedle his way out, but Praxis put his foot down, crushing all hope the red head had, including his own foot.

"You dare defy me! I am your Baron, and as such, I've decided I have the right to use this thing for my Baron doings! Go to Tokyo and buy me a Gundam!" and with that, Praxis physically threw Erol out into the hall. The commander slumped off shortly later, muttering obscenities under his breath while massaging his tailbone.

**ONE WEEK LATER**

"Ah yes, such a superb sight…it's godly, isn't it Erol?" Praxis muttered in awe, looking up at the enormous transformer looking Robot parked outside the Palace. Its shiny metalwork, gleaming invitingly in the sun; it was hard _not_ to admire.

"Um, yes Sir…superb…" Erol replied, nervously looking around the deserted streets. It seemed the citizens could tell this was another potential rampage, and went into retreat early.

"Yes, she is such a beautiful piece of machinery. Shall we take her for a spin?" the Baron said excitedly, grabbing Erol's shirt collar and pulling him towards the beast's legs. Erol followed obediently, knowing if he got on Praxis' bad side now, his Baron could easily crush him. Whether or not the large man actually knew how to pilot this new Gundam, Erol wasn't entirely sure. He hoped that maybe Praxis would fail to drive it, and give up, like he did with multiple other things: Hellcat, Cruiser, Air Train, Subway, Skateboard, Tricycle, Macdonald's Truck, Mower, Forklift, roller-skates, shopping trolley, bar fridge, Krew's levitating chair, his own two legs…yes, the list was endless. Erol just wished this would be added to that horrid list.

"Quick commander! She awaits," Praxis continued to bellow loudly, grabbing hold of a wire rope type thing between the Gundam's massive legs. He forced one of his feet into the looped hold at the end of the wire, and started cheering loudly when the rope started pulling him up. Still holding Erol and whooping all the way to the cockpit, it was a miracle the rope didn't snap with all the extra weight. There were a few unsettling grinding noises coming from the top, not to mention the sparking, but unfortunately it didn't snap, which then led to Praxis forcing Erol inside the cockpit.

The baron himself took the driver's seat, forcing Erol to sit behind the small seat. Erol was beginning to wonder how the thing managed to host Praxis' backside, before he lost all trail of thought at the sudden screeching noise.

"Commander! Make it work!" Praxis complained in a whining tone, mashing every button he could reach. But still the Gundam remained stationary, hopefully never to actually move.

"Sir, I haven't a clue how to start this thing. Read the manual!" Erol replied, shifting uncomfortably in the tight space behind Praxis' seat. The commander heard Praxis groan in an uninterested way, before reaching down under his seat and retrieving this Fabled "Manual". Flipping it open to page one, Praxis skim read it quickly. His none stop mumbling didn't even sound English anymore, and Erol began to feel his heart speed up.

"This is boring! Where's the good stuff?!" Praxis roared after a few seconds, skipping a few hundred pages and stopping at a new page. He read this page too, before screaming angrily at it. "I don't care how to fill up on gas! I want to drive this thing!" the Baron hissed, his single eye narrowing in hatred. It wasn't long until the book was tossed out of the cockpit, hurdling straight for an innocent guard admiring the view from the ground.

"Sir, with all due respect, if you take out _all_ my guards, you won't exactly have an army anymore," Erol stated, watching as his loyal subordinate below fell flat on his face, the horrid face splat noise echoing up to the cockpit. Praxis seemed to ignore his commander, and instead found some fascination in mashing a new button called "Eject". One would like to believe that this "Eject" button would throw _Praxis_ out, but we're not out of the woods yet. "Um…your Baron Highness, what are you--"

For some if would have been a beautiful sight, but not for Erol who was currently traveling over 100km/h through the carbon filled air of Haven city. As Erol was ejected out of the Gundam, Praxis remained blissfully unaware, and began mashing a new button. This button started the gigantic robot up, and Praxis squealed happily.

"See Commander! I beat this thing! See! Aren't you proud? Commander…Commander?" Praxis tried to swivel around in his seat, but struggled pathetically before giving up. He just assumed Erol was too shocked for words, knowing his Baron was above all, the best Baron ever created. So, being content with his thoughts, he did a bit more button mashing, which somehow got the Gundam to take small steps forward.

"Oh man…where am…OH (BEEP)!!!" the guard below screamed, finally waking up from Praxis' manual assault to see the Gundam narrowly miss stepping on him. He was still cowering on the concrete when Praxis disappeared around the corner of the Palace, the mobile suit's head still visible over the bottom section of the building. As the guard ran off screaming for mercy, hopefully alerting the other guards, Praxis had run into a bit of trouble to say the least.

"Get out of my way! I own this city!" Praxis shouted from within the small cockpit. Somehow his voice could be heard echoing out of the Gundam, so it was as if the Gundam was speaking. Or, to a much stupider extent; Praxis had been turned _into_ this machine. Regardless of what the nearby panicking citizens believed, it didn't fix their Baron's troubles.

"Erol! Move it!" Praxis complained, still thinking Erol was there with him. Death glaring the sight before him, he pushed the walking lever forward, the Gundam moving "gracefully" towards the market section of the city. Realizing that the glass roadway above the market section would not move out of his way, he decided to go over it. Or more correctly, _through_ it.

"A giant rampaging robot is terrorizing the markets. I repeat, a giant rampaging robot is terrorizing the markets!" a guard witnessing Praxis' attack screamed into his communicator. By now most of the witnesses had cleared off, knowing better than to stick around.

"What do you mean a giant rampaging robot?" a guard on the other end of the communicator asked, probably back at headquarters. The guard never received a reply, as the Gundam stepped onto the glass road, its foot smashing through the thick glass. Shards of glass flew everywhere, much like Ashelin's bedroom door, and littered the area. The nearby guard began screaming as he was brutally attacked by glass, and rolled around on the floor, hoping to dislodge the glass stuck in his Armour. But since the ground was also covered in glass, the whole point was pointless so he ended up with more glass stuck in him that he'd originally had.

But while the guard sorted his own problems out, Praxis too was managing to overcome this barrier. It had appeared that his Krimzon Guards, scared for the city's well being more than ever, had set up a road barrier, blocking Praxis's way.

"Get out of my way, lollygaggers!" Praxis shouted, his voice erupting out of the Gundam's loud speakers. The KG eyed each other wearily, shifting their road block a few meters sideways to allow their, or what they believed, was their Baron to pass. Praxis happily continued on through the markets, tearing up the glass road, bazaar stalls and even creating liquefied fruit wreckage along the way. It wasn't long before the markets were in his rear view mirror, did the trouble really begin.

"Uh oh…" the Baron murmured, realizing that, to successfully pass through the industrial section, one must be a certain height. And his Gundam was well beyond the recommended height. Wondering aloud to himself, he began pestering Erol for assistance. Still receiving no reply, Praxis concluded that his commander was just jealous over something, and refusing to speak to him. This was later concluded he was "jealous" over Praxis's intelligence of starting the thing.

Casting Erol's silence aside, Praxis peered down at his controls. Surely there would be a building blowing up button, or a path-creating dial. But alas, these things didn't exist in this make/model of Gundam so that left the baron wondering stupidly to himself. The answer finally clicked in Praxis' brain when a rider-less zoomer collided into the mobile suit's windshield thing, spattering metal and all sorts onto the glass.

"Yes…flight…I shall fly over this…heathen based devil realm," Praxis muttered darkly, turning his Gundam around so it was facing the oncoming zoomers. He moved the mobile suit's arms to grab a few zoomers, and began shouting through the loudspeaker at the drivers.

"You, yeah I'm talking to you! Lift me above this forbidden island and carry me safely to freedom!" Praxis commanded heroically, and the 6 or so drivers he held hostage glanced nervously at each other. Deciding to obey their Baron's wishes, no matter how stupid or impossibly valid they were, they started to drive towards the sky.

Chuckling quietly inside the cockpit, Praxis clung onto the zoomers tightly, waiting to be lifted into the air. After a few moments of the Gundam remaining stable, the zoomers began to violently shake, and black, toxic smoke began billowing out their engines. It wasn't long before they blew up entirely, the drivers leaping off just before their vehicles erupted in flames. Shattered remains of the zoomers flew in all directions, while Praxis stared blankly out the windshield.

"Why aren't I flying?!" Praxis asked, the Gundam's arms still held in the sky expecting something to happen. After realizing his plan had failed, and the zoomers weren't ever coming back, the Baron began screaming in a tantrum filled state. He smashed his beefy fists into the Gundam's control panel angrily, complaining loudly that he wanted to fly. Of course, fans of Gundam would know the thing can fly without the need of…zoomers…and Praxis sat back stunned as the robot began rising into the air.

"It's a miracle…" he whispered in awe, watching as the fleeing citizens below got smaller and smaller. It wasn't really a miracle, since he'd hit the "flight" button in his traumatized state and didn't realize it. "Commander…we're flying! Now that I've mastered both land and air, nothing can stop me now!!! Nothing…" and then he spotted it. Yes, the devious devil himself. _Damas_…

Sitting astride his Ramrod, Damas had the radio on full bore listening to the Harry Potter theme song, occasionally humming along. He'd just exited Haven city after catching up with his informants (Spying on Praxis), and was driving happily through the desert back to his own city, unaware of the rampaging monster gradually catching up from the sky. It would have been a magical sight, enhanced by the Harry theme, if it weren't for the situation.

"Give it up old man! Nothing can defeat my Gundamaxis!" Praxis bragged through his loud speakers, nearing Damas and his piddly little _Ramrod_. Damas looked back stunned, his mind working overtime just to pinpoint what exactly his arch nemesis was piloting. It looked like a giant robot of some kind, much like his beloved series, Megas XLR.

"You can't deny my existence now, grandpa!" Praxis continued to taunt, getting ever so closer to this demon fiend of a wasteland King. It had appeared Damas went into panic mode, and swerved his car towards one of the many desert caves. Praxis, being the idiot he was, pursued Damas, even after the other man had disappeared into the darkened cave depths. What Praxis was actually trying to achieve was a total mystery to those witnessing the cave attack, as the massive mobile suit tried to walk into the cave. The baron was pretty sure he'd get his "vehicle" inside, if it weren't for one setback: The top of the cave entrance stopped about knee height on his Gundam.

"What kind of imbecile is piloting that thing?" a random marauder watching from the sidelines asked another. Him and his cronies had been terrorizing cacti all morning, and had been rudely "interrupted" by this Baron based menace.

"I own this cave! Obey and move! Erol! Move!" Praxis yelled, sparks and all sorts emitting from the Gundam's front as the Baron forced it to walk into the solid mountain. All the while, Damas had safely returned to his throne room, a look of utter distraught written on his kingly features. He'd never thought he'd have to do this. Never in this lifetime at least, but living so close to a man named Baron Praxis had a bad habit of urging such desperate acts as these. Picking up the phone, he dialed in a speed dial number, and sat back breathing heavily.

"Yes, I want you to deliver one of your models to Spargus city, ASAP. We are in dire need," Damas replied after someone picked up on the other end. "No, we're being invaded by a Gundam. Of course its dire! No, send it to Spargus….what do you mean Spargus doesn't exist?! Of course it does! I'm in it right now! Well look harder!" Damas was not having a successful time on the phone, and neither was Praxis, who'd somehow lodged his precious machine's legs in the cave.

Back at Haven city, the place was beginning to calm down. The KG had been patrolling in huge numbers around all gates (and walls. Praxis was known to charge through walls) and had told citizens to remain calm and inside their homes. In the palace Ashelin paced the lounge room, smacking her palm into her forehead repeatedly.

"Why didn't you stop him?" she asked Erol, glaring at him while she paced. Erol shrugged, claiming her father "ejected" him before he even started the thing up. Veger began laughing next to him on the couch, retorting that it was Praxis' way over rejecting someone by physically throwing them out.

"Ok, well nobody panic," Ashelin began, sighing slowly.

"It's a bit late for that," Veger muttered, casting a gaze at the wreckage below the Palace. You could see the perfect route of Praxis' late rampage, starting from the Palace and heading through the markets before disappearing entirely.

"Regardless, if we panic now, I'm sure father will sense it. He strives from panic," Ashelin stated seriously, and the other two room occupants gave her weary looks.

"What do you mean…?" Erol asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, once father starts these rampages, if he senses people panicking, he seems to get this…supernatural strength and create damage further," Ashelin explained to an eagerly awaiting audience. It took a few moments of silence for the words to sink in, and before long both Erol and Veger were cracking up laughing.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! How can Baron Praxis get unnatural strength because of panicking people? I think you've been spending too much time around him!" Veger said, controlling his laughter with much effort. Ashelin glared at him, before launching into an explanation of all the times her father went on a rampage. The more she recounted, the more the whole concept made sense.

"Urgh, your package has arrived, Daman," Sig boomed; back at Damas' throne room. Damas nodded in understanding, gesturing towards the lift.

"Bring it up here, Sig. We must organize our plans now, before he arrives," Damas instructed, smiling cunningly at Sig from across the room. The waste Lander gave his king an awkward look, eyeing the lift, then his king, and then the lift again.

"Um, your Highness, I don't think your package will fit on 'ere. And I'm pretty sure it'll crash through your ceiling, not to mention we can't even get it past the front gates," Sig replied, and Damas furrowed his brow.

"I understand. It seems _I_ must go to _it_. Fine, take me, Sig," Damas demanded, and Sig was given the unfortunate task of piggy back carrying Damas all the way to the main gate, completely bypassing and ignoring Kliever's shouting insults about Damas dinting his precious ramrod.

Soon the two came to a halt at a giant wooden box, stretching high into the air. Within a few minutes, Damas had opened his package, and stood gazing fondly up at _his_ beast.

"Isn't it such a godly sight, Sig," Damas mumbled in awe, and Sig gazed up at the headless robot before him.

"Where's it's head?" he asked blankly, and his king began laughing, pointing towards the wasteland garage at Kliever. "What, you mean Kliever's its head?"

"No! Past Kliever…the Ramrod…but now that you mention it, Kliever would make a nice head," Damas trailed off in deep thought, while Sig drove the chosen vehicle beside the large robotic menace-to-be. Standing around aimlessly for a while, trying to think up ways to put the Ramrod on the robot's shoulders (Or, at least Sig was. Damas was…well, let's just say he wasn't thinking at all) they could hear Praxis in the distance.

"Quick sir! We need to put the Rammy on!" Sig boomed desperately, watching as the top of the Gundam's massive head appeared on the horizon. Damas began screaming and pointing, and that's when Sig figured his King would probably remain doing that until Praxis actually arrived (judging by the Gundam's speed, probably 20 minutes). Gathering all his wits about him, Sig rushed back into Spargus, reappearing dragging Samos, kicking and screaming.

"Unhand me, you imbecile! I have work to do with Seem!" Samos complained loudly, but Sig shoved him towards the Ramrod despite his complaints.

"You get that thing up there, before _that_ thing arrives," Sig instructed, first pointing at the Ramrod and headless robot, to the Gundam slowly inching closer. Not only was the sight of Praxis' hellish monstrosity enough to worry about, but Praxis had apparently discovered a CD player in his beloved mobile suit. Either that or he created one himself. "Hell no! Hurry up old man!" Sig urged, ushering Samos to start levitating the vehicle upwards. As Old Green began doing that, Praxis' music could just be heard, and it wasn't pretty.

"Hey, hey,  
The clouds are whey.  
Theres straw for the donkeys,  
And the innocents can all sleep safely,  
All sleep safely."

"What kind of music _is_ that?" Sig asked, hopelessly looking at the Baron approach slowly closer, his sound system set on maximum volume. The whole desert was being disturbed, all the wild life retreating for their lives while the marauders lost control of their cars and drove into cacti, exploding everywhere.

"My, my,  
Sun is pie.  
Theres fodder for the cannons,  
And the guilty ones can all sleep safely,  
All sleep safely."

By now Praxis was close, but luckily Samos had leviated the Ramrod onto the Robot's shoulders. Unfortunately for the Green Sage, he'd passed out from the effort and left as Praxis bait while Damas and Sig climbed up the robot's body to get inside the vehicle on top.

"Ooh, smooth ride Daman. I gotta get me one of these," Sig said, admiring the contraption that Damas had called a MEGAS XLR. Sig supposed it was kinda like Praxis' Gundam, since they were both ridiuclously huge rideable robots and all. Now that Damas had his own fighting machine, he could declare war on Baron Praxis, and hopefully win. Switching on his own music again, the Harry Potter theme started up. It was a miracle that Damas could even drive with that music pounding into his skull, let alone fight with it on.

"You'll have to get past me to enter my city!" Damas shouted through his own loudspeaker at Praxis, who'd just came to a halt before him.

"Oh yeah, then maybe I will!" Praxis retorted, still with his own music booming in the background. The two sets of music didn't compliment each other very well, and anyone witenessing probably would have a brain overload just listening to it.

"Fine then, you do that!"

"Then maybe I will!"

"Well fine!"

"Fine!" Praxis shouted back, pushing his Gundam into forward motion. As he began moving, Damas too pushed his own mobile suit contraption forward, and raised Megas' arms, shooting out some form of ammo at Praxis. Praxis evaded the attack out of luck, accidentally pushing a button that said "Evade" in his button mashing. Gritting his teeth together, Praxis started shouting and pointing (with the Gundam's arm) at Damas.

"You old man, no fair! I declare we take this out to sea! First down drowns!" Praxis informed, turning his Gundam around to face the ocean, his mobile suit still pointing forward with it's arm. And so the three idiots (five if you include the mobile suits) did take it out to sea, and within a few minutes Praxis' Gundam began running out of gas.

He began blaming a lot of people for this. Erol's name in particular was one to pop up often, and so too was Torn's for some reason. He even went as far to blame his mother, Jinx, Krew, Kor, Kira Yamato, Femaxis and Donkey Kong. I'm sure if his commander had been there, Erol would have told him to read the manual first. But since Erol had been long gone, and Praxis had been pointlessly wasting all the fuel in the tank, he began to fall back towards the sea. Upon impact the Gundam made an explosive bomb dive, bigger so than Krew's, and the excess water flew onto Damas' MEGAS. The salt water began rusting away at everything, even Praxis' head metal and Sig's red eye thing. The only man able to escape the salt water's rusting wrath was Damas.

"I'm not down yet!" Praxis shouted, floating past Damas and Sig in the water, drifting to some unknown destination. About a week later Ashelin had a report delivered to her. Or more so, it was hate mail from an foreign country complaining about Praxis terrorizing their homeland. From what she'd gathered, her father had washed up on some island, discovered another mode of potential rampage, and used it to benefit himself. Some would say he'd been homesick and missed his daily rampages, but Ashelin knew those fools had panicked. Deciding it was _their_ problem now, Ashelin scrunched up the hate letter and tossed it in the bin. Haven city _did_ deserve a holiday from there intense Baron once in a while.

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**Corad: So how was it? I hope it was entertaining enough for you all. Now for the proper disclaimer...I don't own Jak and Daxter, Donkey Kong, Gundam Seed or anything to do with Gundams, Megas XLR, the Harry Potter theme song, Barbie or "Senses working overtime" by XTC. Heh, if any of you want to hear this song (if you haven't already) look it up on youtube. It's better if you know the song Praxis was listening too :D If I've missed anything, I don't own that either. I'm not sure when the next update will occur...Bijoux has started writing a shorter chapter, which may be finished sometime soon. If not, I'll get out my prodding broom...hehehehe, Chou...that guy's so funny.  
Chou: Hey, don't you go bashing me now!  
Corad: Aww, come on!!! You hair looks like a broom! Ya gotta lighten up and laugh at yourself once in a while...besides, everyone thinks your hair looks broomish.  
Kenshin: That it does, Chou.  
Chou: Not you too Battousai...  
Corad: Oh crud...I'm gonna miss MAR. Um, I'll see you guys later :)**


	35. Praxis X

**Corad: Man, this hasn't been updated in years! The initial idea for this chapter was give to us by Mr Chocolate, so thank you for that :D I'm not sure how many ppl are actually still reading this, but for those of you who are, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It may not be as funny as previous adventures since I haven't written humor in quite a while. Also, I wrote most of this a while ago, and just finished it off recently, so excuse the writing style if it suddenly changes :) And lastly, thankyou to everyone who reads and/or reviews this. You guys fuel the stupidity XD My sister wrote a couple of paragraphs in this when I got writer's block, so it'll be interesting to see if anyone notices the difference in writing lol.**

**Fortunately I don't own Jak and Daxter, and never will. I also don't own Final Fantasy, or anything else that I may have used in here.**

* * *

**Palace Stories – If this isn't exaggerated, then my name's not Corad…  
****Erol: But your name **_**isn't**_** Corad…it's -  
****Corad: Shut it! **

* * *

**Praxis X**

* * *

It was a day unlike any other in the palace. The corridors were totally deserted, no guards were patrolling about aimlessly, and the cook was able to happily go about his cook deeds without the fear of the large ogorous man (Aka Baron Praxis) barging into the kitchen and annihilating everything in sight. Yes, it was a strange day indeed.

"Father, what the heck is that?!" And so the events of our idiotic story begin…

"Ashelin sweetie, this is a game. I found it in Vin's PS2 this morning, and decided to buy it," Praxis replied casually, not taking his eyes off what appeared to be a large, flat-screen telly. Ashelin stood in the doorway of her father's bedroom, gazing in horror at what she saw on this _telly_. It was a horrible sight really. But I guess anything consisting Praxis is horrible if you look at it.

"But father, what is it?! And why did you steal it from Vin?!" Ashelin yelled in shock, watching as the TV screen went black for a brief moment before coming back on. Her eyes widened at the sight of a racing car behind what looked like a starting line. She couldn't tell who was behind the wheel, and probably didn't want to know either.

"Well, I got bored of Myth War after I sat on the computer and it blew up, so I decided to play Jak X. And for your information, I didn't steal it from Vin! I bought it from him…without paying for it…" Praxis muttered, watching the screen in expectance as the race countdown appeared. Once the green light on the game flashed, this is when the horror really began. Smashing his fist—Yes Fist—into the controller's buttons, the car on the TV began to move forward. Ashelin could only stand back and watch, fearing for her life as her father began driving down a city street. Closer inspection told her it was Kras City.

"Come on! Get moving you lolly gagger!" Praxis roared after a few seconds, realizing that his car was going slower than everyone else's in the race, possibly due to extra weight on the controller. He attempted punching the X button to make the car go faster, but that caused more harm than good. The controller began sparking in a threatening manner, but the Baron was too oblivious and continued driving anyway. He soon caught up to another vehicle, closing the gap between them before laughing menacingly.

"Die Ashelin! DIE!" he screamed, shooting out a torpedo from the car which then collided with the car in front. He heard a loud, ear-piercing scream as the Ashelin's car blew up, and cheered in a victory chant over his win before blissfully carrying on down the track. Unfortunately for our dear old Baron, he didn't realize that the scream _hadn't_ come from the game. No…where Ashelin once stood behind him, remained only a charcoaled mess. Well, a charcoaled mess with a raging Ashelin standing in the centre of it, also charcoaled black…but that's not the point here so we'll continue on.

"Oh yeah! Who's da man?!" Praxis boomed, remotely sounding like Sig as he hurtled further down the road, spotting another victim ahead of him. He began laughing again, and picked up a new torpedo from the ground before moving in for kill number two. It wasn't looking very good for—

Torn sat huddled at the underground's desk, flipping through a pile of work papers and maps, subconsciously wishing he were dead. He hated doing all this work, and for what? While he, the greatest fighter of all time, went through hardships just to get Haven city under decent control, that moron, _Jak,_ just went and ruined it all. His efforts were at a lost cause. No matter how hard he tried, he always failed thanks to that blonde headed idiot. But now, it seemed the heavens were looking kindly over him…literally…within a few seconds of wishing he were dead, a loud explosion erupted inside the underground, and passer byers all stood and stared in surprise at the hidden base, wondering what Torn had possibly done now.

But back at the Palace, Praxis was once again cheering, whooping loudly as Torn's car remains flew everywhere, moving the Baron up a position so he currently sat in 6th place. It was beginning to be a good race, considering the Baron had successfully destroyed two of his worst opponents. His next target was Jak, but unfortunately for Haven's large leader, Jak was nowhere to be found. Instead he opted for the next best thing…Razer. Ever since Praxis had bought Razer from the "pet shop" a while ago, the man had been nagging none stop. He was like a broken record, always repeating the same old line: I need my cigarettes! I'm getting cravings!

We all know that if Praxis had surrendered a cigarette to Razer, he'd shut up for a couple of hours. But Praxis likes to see people suffer, particularly the tuck-shop lady at his old high school when he ordered immense amounts of food in one sitting. So, after spotting his next target on screen, Praxis once again moved in for the kill. The Razer on the game was happily driving about, blissfully unaware of the loud cackling currently sounding in the "real" world. And as he moved in closer and closer…

"Those morons didn't know what hit them…I challenged them to a street race the other night, and the fools accepted. I totally wiped them all out…serves them right for messing with _my_ team," Razer bragged, taking a drag of a cigarette while he told his little racing story to his Kras City bar buddies. They were all having a good time, drinking and playing pool in the pub, all unaware that that was all about to end.

"Hey Razer, when's your next race? I wanna come watch it!" one of Razer's younger fans asked in excitement, ambling up to the front counter where the racing genius sat. Razer smirked and took another drag, breathing out smoke lazily, which drifted to the high ceiling. He was about to answer when the bar suddenly exploded, and all the pub-crawlers vacated, screaming and stumbling on their mass evacuation. The fire alarms began going off, and Razer was never seem again…for a few hours.

"Ah Dammit…this is no fun…Ashelin, get me some snacks!" Praxis roared in agitation, driving past a charcoaled car once belonging to Razer. He moved up into 5th place, but he felt the game lacking in excitement now. Since he couldn't find his main target, Jak, the game seemed pointless to play. That is, until he spotted another victim, by the name of—

Torn had finally detangled himself from the mess of the underground, and was currently striding his way towards the Naughty Ottsel in the hopes of tracking down Jak. He had a nagging feeling that this was all Jak's fault for some reason. Call it a gut instinct if you must. The badass leader wasn't quite sure what caused the Underground to explode. The last thing he remembered was a blinding light before everything was a total mess. As he'd been crawling out from under the wreckage, a voice in his head told him Praxis was to blame, but he shook that thought off. It was _Jak_. He _knew_ it was Jak, because it always _was_ Jak. So now Jak was gonna pay for his crimes.

Taking hurried steps down the path to the Port, he saw it again. The same, blinding white light before a loud detonation occurred around him. The citizens near him began screaming and running away in mad panic, and when the smoke and debris finally cleared, there stood an enraged Torn. Eye twitching unpleasantly, skin and clothes tainted black, what remained of his dreadlocks full of ash…it wasn't a pretty sight.

"Why does this keep HAPPENING?!" he roared at the sky, feeling the last ounce of sanity he'd clung onto all these years, evaporate along with his dignity.

Back at the Palace things began to get interesting again. Upon finding Torn in the race once more, and after blowing him to bits, Praxis started up another one his Baron based victory chants. It attracted the attention of Erol, who was happily passing by in the corridor. Upon hearing the Baron's satisfied mantras, he peered his head in through the door, and spotted Ashelin standing rock still, scowling. He couldn't quite place a finger on it, but Ashelin looked different today. Maybe it was the ash covering her, or the fact that she wasn't roaming around insulting everyone she came across. Whatever it was, Erol completely bypassed her on his way to the Baron's "holy" side. He slowly settled himself beside Praxis and gazed up at the large screen. What he saw made his blood run cold.

"Um, Baron Praxis sir…what is this?" Erol asked slowly, fear riding in his voice as he watched Praxis drive up alongside another racer. Praxis merely waved a large hand in Erol's "general" direction, or more so, the fake plant sitting on his other side. Yes, that same plant had taken the brunt of many Praxis based waves lately. But nonetheless, Erol figured that gesture was meant for him, so remained somewhat quiet as his faithful Baron preceded with his "official" duty, as he liked to call it.

Things couldn't be happier in Praxis' world at the moment. Not only had his new temporary son appeared beside him, wanting in with his holy doings of rampage, but he believed Ashelin was off getting snacks too. Yes, such a happy world. The same could not be said about Keira though. If only she knew what horrors awaited her, just like the horrors that had awaited everyone else. Praxis merely only needed one torpedo to wipe her out of the game, since she sat right in front of his car. If only she knew…

"Have a nice day!" Keira called happily after Damas' receding back. She'd spent all morning fixing up Damas' lawn mower in the garage, which for some reason had her father's wooden sandals lodged in the blades. Why they were there, she did not know entirely, but somehow it may have been linked with Samos' sudden disappearance overnight. Since Damas had been a trusty client however, she could not point the finger of blame, so carried on with her garage chores. Reaching for an oily rag to wipe her hands, she didn't notice the blinding light gradually getting larger and larger behind her, and before she finally did turn around and scream, there was nothing left of the garage…or the whole stadium area for that matter. With all the petrol and whatnot, the flames were of the larger variety, and as such, a chain reaction of love occurred, taking the racing stadium along for the joy ride.

Back at the Palace, Veger suddenly appeared in the lounge room, sheer panic written on his face and sweat glistening on his forehead. He began standing in front of Praxis' gaming screen, shouting out obscenities and pointing randomly out the northern window in mad fright.

"Get out of my way, Vegmar! I'm trying to kill Keira!" Praxis shouted angrily, leaning side to side, hoping to see past Veger's scrawny legs to his destined target on screen.

"But she's already dead! Look at the mess that explosion made!" Veger retorted, refusing to move from his current situation. That remark though, dragged Erol away from the game, and he peered out the window, across the city, to the massive black hole residing where the Stadium once stood.

"Um, Sir…you might want to take a look at this…" Erol groaned, but Praxis started shouting again, telling everyone, including the still ash ridden Ashelin, to "get the hell out". So as the room cleared, the groaning following the retreating individuals, Praxis began his conquering of Jak X again. As explosion after explosion occurred, particularly to a somehow surviving Keira, Torn, Ashelin, and Razer, things turned to the worse in other parts of Haven city.

"Jak you moron! What the hell have you done now?!" Torn roared after entering the Naughty Ottsel, rage written clearly on his rage filled face. Jak sat at the back of the bar, returning Torn's heated glare with more of a blank, fazed-out look. Whether the blonde was being stupid, or whether he really didn't know what Torn was ranting about, didn't cross Razer's mind as he staggered in after the Underground leader.

"Please, help me! I'm being punished for something I don't even know I did!" Razer whined dramatically, dragging charcoaled feet along the floorboards. Jak just looked between one blackened figure to the other, regarding each with a bored expression like he was drugged or something. _Like he didn't have a mind of his own anymore._ "Uh, maybe I should come back another time?" Razer finished, realizing that our hero didn't look too hero-ly anymore. More like a zombie in fact.

"Jak you idiot! You can't escape this one!" Torn snarled, shoving Jak off his stool where he fell in a slumping, brick crackening manner. It was at that point, when Jak remained dead like on the floor, that someone other than Jak was doing this preposterous damage. And that someone could only be Praxis.

"Alright, he's going down! No more explosions for me!" Torn yelled, grabbing a nearby pool stick hanging on the wall and raising it in victory. Razer followed the enraged Torn towards the door, before yet again, Praxis blew the Underground leader up. But as our new heroes take to the plunge to challenge the Baron themselves, in Spargus, things couldn't be better for dear old Kleiver. Things were going great for him so far. No sign of Damas, the blonde or the rat, his vehicles were all finely tuned and cleaned, and he even managed to beat Jak's gun turret course after months, if not years, at trying to. Yes, everything was great in the land of Kleiver.

"Kleiver, I want _you_, to pick up my lawn mower from Keira, and mow my lawn before dusk," Damas instructed suddenly, waltzing through the main gate and into Spargus before Kleiver could even begin to protest.

"You don't have a bloody lawn to mow! Do your own dirty work you lazy-assed codger," Kleiver boomed after Damas, only to hear the simple retaliation: "If I'm a lazy-assed codger, what does that make you!". Now that really did it. Yep, the icing on the cake had been laid by the Wasteland King himself. Not many people were brave enough to challenge Daman, and some were smart not too, but Kleiver didn't really fall into any of those categories. "Come back here and say that, ya conniving bugger!" I'm sure Damas would have returned to settle the score, but since Praxis had spotted a newbie on the track of death back at Haven city, things then became somewhat awkward to say the least.

What once stood as Kleiver's prized garage now stood a black hole. And in this black hole, stood Kleiver; a raging Kleiver at that. He didn't know what had happened, but he knew one thing…all his vehicles were gone, vaporized into nothing. And when Damas poked his head back through the garage door, he mentioned something about seeing that happening a lot at Haven city today. And now we have another "hero" on his way to pointlessly avenge himself.

"You stupid car! Get out of my way!" Praxis shouted back in the lounge, eying Pecker's racecar only inches from his own. The sight of Pecker creeping past him gradually made the Baron angry. No one overtook him on his own turf, even though this particular race was set in Kras City. But the thought of Pecker winning pushed him to his limits. He remembered threatening that old lady and her stuffed parrot not so long ago, after they won one of them Chariot races he still had yet to complete after losing interest. Everyone in Haven had hoped Praxis had forgotten those chariot races, but it is only a matter of time until the Baron will burst their bubbles of happy joy, distorting their entire perception of reality... again…

"Father, you have some visitors," Ashelin muttered, leading the way into the lounge, followed closely by Torn, Razer, Kleiver, Sig, Keira, and even Jak had been dragged along.

"Not now Honey, can't you see daddy's about to kill Pecker?" Praxis replied in a knowing tone, shooting out a grenade based missile at the car in front. It soared meaninglessly past Pecker's ride, before landing with a loud thump into someone else's.

"Would you quit doing that?!" Torn shouted, his frustration growing steadily larger as yet another explosion occurred on his behalf. Praxis looked innocently up at him after laying the controller on the floor, having just won the race.

"Doing what, _Torn_?"

"That! _This!_" Torn hissed, grabbing the controller, the PS2 and Jak X, before hurling it out the Palace window where it fell pathetically to the ground many stories below. Praxis began to uncontrollably sob, before running out the room screaming about Torn being a troll that destroys little girls' dreams. "Well, that was surprisingly easy," the tattooed man muttered, gazing after Praxis as he ran to the kitchen to raid the fridge or harass the cook. Possibly a bit of both. When he was gone, things began to settle down a little. Jak even perked up, waking up from his zombified form.

"Now that's over, I want me cars back!" Kleiver growled, slumping off out of sight. Everyone believed he was heading back to the Wasteland city, but the sound of Erol's beloved vehicle range being attacked downstairs made the commander run off too, shouting things about self-worth and income waste. Erol's feeble attempts to save his cars would be in vain though, since Kleiver was a hard man to negotiate with, and this Kleiver was in no condition…err…_mood_, to negotiate.

After a while, things resumed back to normal. Vin appeared, asking where his console and game went, Damas returned to Keira's wreckage of a garage, claiming he wanted his mower back, which no longer existed thanks to Praxis. Kleiver was happy, riding along on Erol's Krimzon guard cruiser, although it did struggle to narrowly miss scraping the concrete paving. Torn slumped back to work in the Underground, or what remained of it. Ashelin decided to take a nice, relaxing bath to rid of the black stains currently occupying every inch of her and her clothes, and Razer decided to partake in a drinking contest with Jak at his bar just to celebrate having actually survived another Praxis based beating. Praxis however, still sat hunched over the kitchen bench, sobbing loudly while stuffing a 20inch sub into his mouth.

"If only you could taste as good as victory," Praxis whined to his sub, parts of his long sandwich falling on everything and _everyone_.

"You fat man, quit terrorizing my kitchen!" the cook yelled, whacking Praxis on the backside pathetically with his wooden spoon. This had no affect whatsoever as the wooden spoon was forcefully sucked into his flab, so there the Baron remained seated at the kitchen bench until he'd finished eating and slowly slumped off to find entertainment elsewhere. Maybe it had been Razer's fault that what happened next, did. After wandering aimlessly out the Palace door, Praxis laid his eye on Razer's Havoc V12, sitting blissfully unaware on the footpath. It was such a majestic sight for Praxis that he ran, fan-girl screaming the whole, way towards it.

It was as if those around him could predict the future, and began evacuating early while a guard started shouting for mercy and alike. It was a miracle too, that the Havoc could host a twin cab in its single seat. But unfortunately it _did_, and thus, the real rampage for today began.

"Oh my…Oh my God…I've found it," Praxis said in disbelief, stroking the leather-covered steering wheel affectionately. He then started the vehicle up, and put it into reverse to back it out onto the main street. Sounds of the tires crunching something sounded in Praxis' ears, and he gazed over the top of the door to see what would dare defy him. It was a heartbreaking sight for most Jak and Daxter fans, but a relief for the citizens of Haven city to see the PS2 plus controller, memory card and Jak game all turned into debris on the pavement.

"Heh, I don't need _you_ anymore! I can race for real now!" Praxis taunted, and the nearby guard screaming for mercy believed his Baron was talking to the game console, until he pointed his stubby finger in _his _direction. "You think you can destroy what little happiness I have, don't you?! Well, I can destroy you!" Praxis then floored the Havoc's accelerator, and drove towards the innocent guard. The guard, wondering what Praxis was blaming him for now, began screaming and running towards Mar's tomb, hands high in the air.

"Alert all citizens, an Ogre has been sighted near the Port region. I repeat, an Ogre has been sighted near the Port region. Avoid that section at all costs," another guard over loudspeaker shouted, panic clearly painting his voice. It was then that _everyone_ began evacuating, but Praxis only had his attention set on one, simple fool. The one in the near distance trying to escape onto Mar's tomb's roof, dressed in nice Armour, looking majestic and such.

"Die! Get down here and face me like a man…and DIE!" Praxis roared, speeding the Havoc up faster. He drove straight for his innocent victim, and crashed head on into the thick, solid door leading inside Mar's ancient Tomb. His victim fell, colliding with a loud thump on the paved ground, and the Baron cheered as Praxis' head rolled past. He had won.

"Um sir, why are you destroying that statue of Yourself?" Erol asked after just having wandered out the Palace, realizing that the city was under high alert that only the Baron could be capable of setting off. Praxis gave his commander a weary look, before pointing accusingly at the rubble that once stood as his statue.

"It was saying mean things to me, so I killed him," Praxis replied, before shifting the car into first gear. He drove off back down the road, in search of his next victim. He knew whom he had yet to deal with. There was only one man that Praxis wanted wiped from this world for good.

"Stupid, heap of trash! Open up will you!" Torn growled in frustration, trying to open up the underground door. It was a futile effort however, since all that remained of the underground's wall was in fact, the door. He didn't even need to _use_ the door to get inside. But as Torn tried to shift it open anyway, he heard it. Yes, the rumbling of an engine, the all too familiar sound of Razer's cherished ride. Torn was wondering what business Razer had here, until it daunted on him…the engine was struggling, and that could only mean _one_ thing.

"You're gonna pay for your crimes, you rust-bucket of a man!" the Baron shouted, wielding what appeared to be Damas' staff in one hand, while juggling another 20 inch sub in the other. He was using his knees to steer the car, and as a result, kept running into things, such as the occasional Market stall the slum's people had set up. But as he neared Torn, the Underground leader felt trapped. He had no escape route planned out since the alleyway had only one exit, and that was currently being blocked by his worst nightmare. Why hadn't he seen this coming?! He began cursing the Shadow for setting up base in such a stupid location, fearing his life as Praxis drew steadily nearer, the staff positioned in his hand like a spear or lance complimented by the well known Xena War cry.

"You die now!" the Baron continued to rant, perfecting the skill of ranting even more as he began shouting out other, unimportant things that weren't even related to anything. However, as Praxis neared Torn, he suddenly took a sharp left, driving through the remnants of the underground and security wall, before disappearing into the wasteland. Torn heaved a sigh of relief when Praxis was gone, until he heard another engine struggling to run. He tensed up at the sight of Damas riding past on his beaten-up old mower that had somehow survived the garage explosion. He was hunched over what remained of the steering wheel; face determined and looking agitated, and Torn even heard his Rhino like breathing. Once Damas had gone by too, presumably after Praxis, Torn slumped to the ground, wondering why on earth he was still being punished.

"You're gonna die old man! Just you wait!" Praxis was still ranting, still waving the staff about and eating his sub. He ran over a few metal heads hiding in the sand, but seemed unfazed. He continued driving through the desert, rambling and screaming non-stop, even when Damas somehow caught up in his mower. From first glance one would think they were drag racing, but Damas was intent on getting his staff back, after Praxis had unceremoniously mugged him and nicked off with it.

"I own this city!" Praxis screamed once Damas grabbed hold of one end of his staff, trying to yank it back.

"I own this desert!" Damas replied, as Praxis tugged the staff away from his arch nemesis. The two kept having a tug-of-war match with Damas' staff, both sitting about a meter apart from one another. They even kept fighting over it, after encountering a cactus. The poor cactus should have seen it coming when the two appeared over the dune, both driving like maniacs towards it. As Praxis drove past it on one side, Damas the other, the staff unfortunately went straight through it. Cactus fluid and needles flew everywhere; only a small stump remained growing in the sand.

"I didn't authorize a 1000 needle attack!" Praxis boomed, shaking his fist at the miserable remnants of a once perfect cactus behind him. Little did Praxis know that he was no longer playing Final Fantasy, and cacti didn't attack people like he believed.

"Oh yeah? Slowga!" Damas shouted unexpectedly as Praxis began to inch past him. Praxis started to slow down, traveling at snail's pace in the top-notch racing vehicle. It was a horrible sight indeed to see Razer's precious car struggling to do over 5km/h. But as Praxis slowed down, his insults also slowing down, Damas began casting Haste on himself, so his mower began speeding up. He flew off into the distance, shouting stuff about winning this race while Praxis brandished the staff in his direction, looking like it was in slow motion. It had appeared that Damas had forgotten that all he set out for was his staff, but the thought of beating Praxis to his destination must have looked like a sweeter victory.

So as the baron drove slowly for about ten more minutes, still brandishing _his_ weapon and screaming insults to no one in particular, he finally sped up again. By the time Praxis had reached Spargus, Damas was already basking in his victory back at his throne, his mower crashed into the wall next to the throne room lift. It looked as if Damas had attempted to _drive_ the thing _onto_ the lift but failed miserably. But this wasn't where Praxis stopped. No, he approached Kleiver, pointing to his special little Leaper Lizard.

"How about I trade you my prized racing vehicle, for that leaping vehicle," Praxis offered, stroking his beard while trying to bargain with Kleiver. Kleiver accepted the offer, now calling Razer's car his own, while Praxis attempted to mount the Leaper Lizard. With many struggles comes a victory, and as Praxis finally mounted the lizard, the poor thing suffering from the tremendous amount of weight, he set off out the wasteland door again. Where to, nobody knew. Why he was going, still no one knew. That is all, except for Seem.

"My King! An ugly beast of a disproportional size has entered the Monk Temple!" Seem screamed, running up to Damas with what appeared to be a half empty beer bottle clutched in her hand. Damas eyed Seem's panicked face, before lowering his eyes to the bottle. A Monk with a half finished bottle of beer, such a filthy sight indeed. From Damas' view, the bottle should be _empty_.

"Hmm, give me the remains of that, and I shall destroy this beast of which you speak," Damas replied, pointing at the beer bottle Seem was clutching onto. She thought long and hard for a few moments, deciding which was more important to her. The beer she'd picked up half price, or the Monk Temple that housed ancient knowledge on the Precursors. She finally handed over the beer, which by then this "beast" would've probably destroyed the Temple. But Damas slumped off his throne, disappearing down the lift with the bottle to see into this matter.

Damas seated himself back on his mower, or what remained of it at the current stage, and drove out the city towards the Monk Temple. Little did he know that his arch nemesis was in fact, the beast that was happily terrorizing everything, including the unfortunate soul currently dragging him across the desert.

"Faster you weakling!" Praxis screamed at the Leaper Lizard, as it began jumping across the gaps between the isles. It was a miracle that the thing made it that far, but still Praxis was urging it on. "I have an old man to kill!" the baron growled, crossing his arms in a pouting manner. The lizard rolled its eyes, wondering which old man was left to dispose of, considering he'd met both Kleiver and Damas already.

Eventually the lizard came to a halt, and collapsed in the sand, looking as dead as ever. Praxis dismounted happily, scuffling through the entrance of the Monk Temple and through the far door. He appeared soon after in front of his destined target, after a few minor setbacks (shows mass destruction through the holy grounds, including a few flaming and totally destroyed Precursor monuments). "Ah, the time has come, when I shall get my revenge…" Praxis giggled, wandering up to the huge statue of a Precursor, the staff still held within his beefy hands. He came to a sudden standstill, realizing that he could go no further when the ground suddenly ended.

"Why have you come, oh ogorous warrior," the Precursor statue whined in that majestic voice of his, when it noticed the tubby man in front it. Praxis remained silent, nervously eyeing around him trying to think up a decent enough excuse.

"To get my revenge…you still owe me!" Praxis replied, pointing up accusingly at the God-like structure.

"I told you, I already paid you back!"

"No you didn't! You ate 17 pizza slices! You paid for 16 and a half!"

"You venture this far, just to get a few measly dollars from me? Should you not be protecting your city, warrior?"

"I own this city!"

"Correction, you own _that_ city. And why are you not there now?"

"I uh…" Praxis fell silent, wondering that himself. He was about to answer, when Damas suddenly appeared with the now almost empty bottle of beer. He was staggering slightly, being a total embarrassment to the word "light weight". But as he neared, the Precursor set his sights on the Wasteland King, forgetting that Praxis even existed.

"You, why are you here?"

"You can't…tell me (hic) what to do…I own this city!" Damas responded, swaying on the spot as he clutched the beer bottle for dear life.

"Correction, you own _that_ city. This is not a city. This is a Temple you fool," the Precursor statue corrected the sand leader.

"NA-AH!!" Damas drunkenly stated, hurling what remained of the beer at the statue. Glass shattering, liquid spraying everywhere - Damas had done it now.

"Infidel!" the statue roared.

"Quick! Kleiver!! Air five!!" Damas slurred, high fiving the air as if Kleiver was in the room.

"That's it! We're sorting this out back at _my_ pad!" Praxis boomed, growing tired of the 'old farts' ranting on around him. He'd ventured to the Monk Temple for one reason, and one reason only. The problem was, he could no longer remember what that reason was, so instead of wasting more valuable rampage time, Praxis began to usher Damas and the Precursor statue out of the citadel.

Damas was easily enough removed from the Monk Sanctuary Temple grounds, but the Precursor statue proved to be somewhat of a small hiccup in Praxis' perfect, flawless plan. "Yes, a small hiccup," Praxis murmured whilst stroking his beard again, calculating it all in his brain. Glancing from the Precursor to the small arch known as the escape door, to the black hole surrounding the large statue, the Baron came to a horrid, horrid conclusion, in which he forgot moments later much like his reason for being there in the first place.

"Ok gramps, move it outta here!" Praxis ordered in a booming voice that echoed around the Temple, scaring a few innocent monks away from their hourly worship, thinking they were under attack by a beast of some ugly description. The Precursor remained where he was, and the room fell into an awkward silence, save for Damas in the nearby hall having a drunken conversation with one of the many smaller statues.

"Well?" Praxis asked, waiting for this ancient structure to obey his god-like command.

"Unless you've failed to notice, ogre-fool Baron, but I am permanently stuck in this Temple. No one may move me. No one at—HEY!" the Precursor screamed, feeling Praxis begin to push it forwards. How Praxis was able to push the huge statue, let alone over the black crevices, it's best we do not know. Some say his Fatman powers had mysteriously returned, but others were quick to correct those fools who thought Fatman had reappeared, due to the fact that Fatman _had_ no super powers. All in all, Praxis, Damas and the Precursor all appeared outside the Monk Temple; Damas ranting none stop to Kleiver who wasn't even there, and the Precursor Statue complaining about anything that came to mind, mainly the reason for its existence.

As Praxis tied the Precursor Statue to the end of Damas' beaten up mower, a few Monks ran screaming from inside the Temple, having witnessed the path of destruction caused by Praxis' infamous Precursor drive. Yes, it was a horrible scene indeed, with huge holes in almost every wall thanks to Praxis getting hopelessly lost whilst pushing his newly-found best-friend.

"Isn't it perfect," the baron said happily, admiring the tangled knot mess he'd created. The Precursor rolled his eyes, sighing in exasperation while Praxis ushered Damas onto the mower. Praxis watched in joy as Spargus' King drunkenly drove the mower down the steep slope back to the wasteland, dragging a screaming, enraged Precursor along behind him. "They grow up so fast," the Baron said in a weepy voice, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye, watching as his "children" disappeared from sight.

Getting onto his half-dead leaper Lizard, Praxis followed in pursuit, and caught up to Damas quickly enough who was struggling to get past the gaps in between the islets. How he managed to get to the Monk Temple in the first place was a mystery, but now he was faced with a problem, and in his drunken state, Damas just drove into the water, the top of the Precursor Statue the only think visible as he traveled along the ocean floor.

When all three had finally reached dry land again, Damas continued driving and ranting, swerving all over the place whilst the ancient Precursor was screaming for mercy from God, even though he is _technically_ considered a God, so his screams were ineffective.

Eventually the threesome struck more trouble when the mower's engine suddenly caught fire, having struggled for miles pulling "old Gramps" as Praxis kindly put it. The engine began to violently vibrate, until it finally blew up, and Damas rolled to a slow halt.

"I own this city!" was Damas' slurred input to the situation, glaring ahead of him, acting oblivious to the fact that he was no longer moving. He kept tilting the steering wheel from side to side, flooring the accelerator and shouting at people to move out of his way. It was a sad, embarrassing sight for all the Damas followers.

"Ok, I've got this all sorted. A minor setback, but we can get past this," Praxis said, trying to control the situation at hand. "I'll get Kleiver to fix the mower," he finished, forcing his Lizard to move again while Damas began complaining that Kleiver was already here, patting the mower's flaming bonnet in the process.

And so Praxis made the heroic journey back to the Spargus Garage, hunched over the reins of the Lizard, commanding his beast "onwards" whist wielding a cactus arm above his head, having lost Damas' staff somewhere in the Monk Temple confusion. It was such a majestic sight to behold.

"Quick Kleive-tron! I need you to fix Kleiver! He blew up in the wasteland trying to carry Old Man Gramps!" Praxis roared in desperation, pointing out across the desert where black smoke could just be seen drifting from a distant dune. It wasn't as if Kleiver wanted to go fix this "Kleiver" that Praxis spoke of, but the Baron had somehow forced him using mind games. Somewhere along the lines, Praxis had offered to let him back into Haven if he refused to help Damas, only to have him banished again into Spargus. In all reality the punishment deemed pointless in Kleiver's eyes, and decided to help just to get away from Haven's one and only nightmare.

As Kleiver squished himself onto Erol's cherished cruiser and drove off to get the horrible deed over and done with, Praxis admired his work, grinning happily in victory. The sight of Kleiver's Barbie printed PS2 and favorite game sitting idly nearby the Spargus gate only prolonged the Baron's happy victory, as he grabbed the whole package and Razer's Havoc before setting off into the sunset, never to return to Damas and friends again in this particular rampage.

* * *

**Later that Night**

"JAK! WHAT THE _HELL_ ARE YOU DOING!" Torn yelled, his eye twitching dangerously as Jak nudged the side of his head yet again with the zoomer, just outside the Underground base.

"TORN! I can't stop it! It's not responding! I can't even get off it!" Jak looked panicked, fumbling with the controls of the zoomer, trying to stop it repetitively hitting Torn while the Underground's Bad-ass yelled his infuriated head off, threatening to kill his blonde headed subordinate. It would be a futile effort though, for no one could stop this…no one…that is, except for Praxis…

"Heheheheheheheheh!! DIE TORN! DIE!" the Baron cheered whilst playing Jak 2 with Kleiver's stolen console. He was driving the zoomer yet again into Torn's unsuspecting head, his victory chants only getting louder as the zoomer finally blew up into a flaming wreckage. Immediately after the demise of his zoomer, Praxis made Jak run off to collect a new one, and with that new vehicle, began ramming it into Torn's head once more. It would be a long night for our unfortunate blonde hero, and an even longer one for poor - utterly defenseless against this current predicament - Torn.

Erol knew, as he watched on from the darkness and safety of the hallway outside, that it would only be a matter of time before Praxis reached the certain scene involving himself, Kor and the construction site. That certain _scene_, Erol knew, would end Haven's ongoing rampages, if only for a little while.

If only he knew how wrong he was…

* * *

**Corad: The Morale of this story...Praxis is a bad gamer O.o  
Erol: What? You idiot, that's not the morale! The morale is never give Praxis a gaming console, or leave your Havoc V12 unattended on the sidewalk! (glares at Razer)  
Razer: It wasn't _my_ fault your Baron discovered it. It was simply back luck.  
Erol: Bad Luck?! And does your "bad luck" explain why everything else seems to go wrong when Praxis is involved?  
Razer: How would I know? I shouldn't even _be_ here. Praxis disappeared before _I_ was created, so-  
Corad: (zones out of argument) Man...I've got a sudden urge to play Jak X now...but I'm only up to Jak 2 in my yearly crawl back (shifty eye). But yeah, how was that for an update? Comments are greatly appreciated, so if you have the time. Only has to be a word or two at most :D I know it's a bit long...didn't know where to stop it, plus you could say it somehow makes up for a year of no update. Well...I'm guessing it's a year...it could be longer O.O I hope this was worth you time, and I'll see you in the next update, which judging by the ideas we're churning out, not to mention the sequel to this chapter, it could be quite soon.**


	36. One Man's Tree Is Another Baron's Felony

**Bijoux: Bet there are a few people thinking that this would never be updated again XD I wrote this Chrissy special especially for our old fans who may or may not actually come and read this... Sorry it's a bit long but we thought we'd try make up for not updating in a while. Hope everyone enjoys, and Merry Christmas :D **

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter (c) to Naughty Dog**

* * *

**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**One Man's Tree Is Another Baron's Felony**

Christmas was a time of joy, peace, love and sharing. It was a time where all inhabitants of a family came together and ate and drank and exchanged gifts. Ah how glorious.

But yet, somewhere out there, in amidst of a giant city this, sadly, was not the case.

Christmas, as they had it, was just another excuse to put the city on high alert. And why might they have done that, you ask? Well, to answer such a question our tale begins in the centre of the bustling city of Haven, where, high up in the Palace a group of blissfully unaware individuals were trying to enjoy some peace and quiet.

Yes..._trying_.

"Um...do you hear something, Ashelin?"

"No...what does it sound like?"

"I can hear it, Erol."

"It's like a...thumping...maybe?"

"No...I can't say I can hear it. Where's it coming from?"

"I can hear it, Erol."

"I'm not sure...but the floor...it seems to be _vibrating_?"

"Hmm...how bizarre."

"I can hear it, Erol."

"Yes...how very peculiar and--"

And that was when it sounded. Far off...echoing.

"_Paaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrr-tyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy_!!!!!"

Wide-eyed glances were exchanged, as fear took a hold of the three people in the room. The thumping from earlier came vibrating ever closer, and a second too late, Erol finally realized what it was. And much like little Simba, when he realised he was about to be smooshed by a herd of fanatical wilder beasts (who could've quite possibly been taking the Pride Lands Fun Run), the reaction was not pretty.

"R-r-RUUUN!" was all the commander could scream, Ashelin frantically hurling her magazine across the room and making a bee-line for the doorway. Veger screamed like a little girl, instinctively leaping out of his chair and latching himself onto the light hanging from the ceiling.

Erol, who'd had to negotiate past the coffee table was just on his way towards the door when suddenly, Ashelin came back into the room, panic all over her face.

"It's father!" she screamed, pointing in the direction she'd just come in, "He's blocked all the hallways leading out of here!! The only way out is..."

Erol watched fearfully as she shakily pointed down the hallway directly before them, the very hallway that was echoing the thumping and cheering into their direction. Erol's throat suddenly dried up and in his cracked voice he could utter only one word.

"_No_."

And that, sadly, was how this whole horrible ordeal started. Moments later Praxis had come bounding into the room, waving around a large axe and screaming incoherent gibberish. Erol had to duck at the last second to avoid getting hit by the axe, Praxis paying little heed as he concentrated instead on grabbing Ashelin with his beefy spare hand before she had time to run passed him and out the door.

Veger was next to fall victim as Praxis came stomping towards him, still screaming gibberish that now sounded strangely angry as he eyed his head of council suspiciously. The tiny man screamed as he was pried from the light.

If had not been for Erol suddenly making a break for the door, Praxis would've had Veger in the same beefy hand that he held Ashelin in. Alas, the capturing of Erol seemed to be higher up on Praxis' priority list and thus, in an angry stupor, Praxis abruptly dropped Veger, marching towards Erol instead.

The commander managed to pick up the words "what are you doing?" in amongst the random yelling. He was halfway out the door when suddenly a fat hand encased around his ankle, hurling him backwards towards the Baron. Within seconds Erol was hanging upside down in Praxis' hold.

Sensing that this had something to do with the 'Christmas tree shopping expedition' that Praxis had been going on about recently, Erol hastily reached for his wallet, pulling out a large collection of bills and thrusting them towards Veger, who was on all fours on the ground, screaming in terror.

"Veger! Here's all the money I've got, take it and buy the tree!" Erol managed to yell out over Praxis, who was still angrily raging about something unknown. Veger grabbed the bills eagerly, rushing to escape the room, narrowly missing the Baron's axe as he did so.

Apparently preoccupied with holding up Erol and Ashelin, Praxis couldn't manage to stop Veger, so he instead opted to start ranting harder as he made his departure down the hallway he'd just come from.

It was a short time later that Erol and Ashelin had been thrown in the back of the Baron's hellcat, Praxis then moving to take the front seat. The hefty Baron sighed contently, settling himself in the driver's seat.

"So, how was your morning?" he calmly asked, starting up the hellcat and casually driving out the garage as though that last 10 minutes of screaming had not just happened.

"Uh...yeah...it was err...good..." Erol and Ashelin mumbled almost in unison.

"Good, good," Praxis lightly breathed, "So I trust you know where we're going then?"

"Uh...tree shopping?" Erol shakily asked.

"Oh, oh no commander, we're not going tree _shopping_," Praxis chuckled, "We're going tree..._hunting_!"

And with that the hellcat sped off violently, people screaming and leaping out the way as Praxis insisted on flying on ground level towards Haven Forest.

* * *

It was a short trip to the forest, full of screaming citizens, nervous glances from the backseat, and fruit flying everywhere as Praxis hurdled into market stand after market stand. Erol and Ashelin had learned to suppress the urge to argue with the Baron's 'driving methods', and instead kept as quite as they could, occasionally screaming out apologies as Praxis ploughed through his civilians.

Erol breathed a sigh of relief as the large ramp leading to the forest came into view. He was expecting the hellcat to come to a gradual halt, to park near the ramp, but as it came closer into view, Praxis just seemed to be getting faster.

"This is _my _city!" Praxis roared defiantly, answering any protests Ashelin or Erol could offer him, as the hellcat swiftly made contact with the ramp, sparks flying as it grinded against the concrete. It was now that it suddenly slowed down, moving at a casual pace up the ramp. Once at the top, the big metallic door needed to open. Erol, thinking they were just going to park here, was about to get out of the hellcat but found himself falling back in, unbalanced as Praxis started driving into the air lock. The opposite door took a moment to open as Praxis casually drove towards it.

Erol and Ashelin stared forwards fretfully as the hellcat entered the grassier terrain beyond the air lock. It slowly sauntered ever closer to the ominous gorge, Praxis looking bored as he stared ahead, empty-headed.

"Uh...Baron sir?" Erol whimpered, sweat forming on his brow as the hellcat continued to go forwards, even though the front of it was poking out over the gorge. Erol and Ashelin were just about to jump out of the hellcat, when suddenly Praxis snapped back into life.

"PERFECT!" he cheered, slamming on the breaks suddenly, the hellcat two thirds away from plummeting to its doom. It was a wonder the Baron's weight hadn't plunged the vehicle off the cliff.

Without a second glance, Praxis climbed from his hellcat, Ashelin and Erol following hastily behind him, wondering whether the vehicle would still be there when they got back.

No later had they gone through the portal leading to the higher cliff, were they all crammed onto the little levitating Precursor platform, moving slowly towards the forest. Ashelin watched nervously as a crack began to appear in the levitating artefact, due to their collective weight. She was utterly relieved once they hit solid ground, but that feeling soon diminished when she realised they'd all have to go _back _that way, possibly with a massive pine tree with them too.

"Ah, we're here!" Praxis boomed once the three of them were standing amongst the tall trees of the forest. Without another word the Baron began stomping – yes stomping – through the once peaceful forest. His heavy steps managed to not only lead the trio deeper into the forest, but also managed to clear out a few endangered animal species. The axe in Praxis' hand was still being violently waved around, taking out branches, bushes and a few low flying birds in the process. A closer inspection at the trail of damage would declare that Pecker had been amongst the lost.

After realising that they'd walked past several decent, healthy looking pine trees, Ashelin began to question whether her father had forgotten why they'd come here. With the unceremonious squashing of another endangered lizard, she decided she'd better drop a hint.

"So uh...father, have you seen any _trees _you like yet?" Ashelin asked, winking at Erol, who seemed to be questioning the Baron's judgement too.

"Well, that _is _why we're here, sweetie," Praxis chuckled casually, "Have no fear; daddy knows _exactly _what he's doing."

The questions ceased after that, and in time Praxis came to a halt in front of a giant pine tree. It was majestic and beautiful in every way. It smelt like a million pine scented rear-view mirror decorators situated in front of a bellowing industrial fan. Its bark, flawless and toned was perfectly glinting in the small streaks of sunlight shining through the canopy above, and it seemed to have a bright golden glow radiating around it.

"It's...so beautiful..." Erol gawked, his mouth went dry, his eyes wide. It was like the way Keira stared at Jak, the way Damas stared out over his desert kingdom, the way Praxis stared at the McDonald's arch. The commander was flabbergasted.

"I...I know..." Ashelin uttered breathlessly, as she was drawn into the tree's beauty.

They could've stood there staring at it for hours if it had not been for a certain Baron suddenly pushing past them, breaking their love struck gazes.

"Ah yes, _this _is the one..." Praxis seemingly agreed, pulling his axe out he suddenly began to violently hack at the tree chaotically. Erol and Ashelin watched in horror as bark and sap flew everywhere, all over the other trees and all over them. It was a gruesome sight indeed.

"Get out of my way, _you_!" Praxis roared angrily, slamming his booted foot into the tree's trunk when he'd hacked it through quite far. That beautiful glow around it suddenly faded and the tree fell solemnly, narrowly missing some of its neighbours before it came down, crash landing mere inches away from a little green man.

The green man stopped his meditating, turning his head to stare wantonly at the Baron before him.

"The trees do not appreciate you destroying their brethren, you ungrateful oaf!" Samos yelled angrily, levitating into a standing position, his hands on his hips.

"Ah, finally, we have trekked far to meet you, sage!" Praxis declared heroically, brushing off Samos' abuse.

"What?! No you _haven't_!" the sage yelled back, pointing to the entrance of the forest a short distance away, "You're as fat as you are stupid!"

"Such _wisdom_," Praxis gasped, seemingly oblivious to the insult, "You, you are the one!"

"He's going to be our tree...?" Erol asked, his shoulders slumping.

"Tell me old man, where is the best tree in this entire land?" Praxis boomed, not hearing Erol.

"Hah, if it is a good tree you seek, you will find no better specimen than the one in the underground!" Samos declared, dropping his weight onto one hip and flicking his suddenly jewellery and nail-polish encrusted hand in doing so, "Girl, your tree ain't go no 'G' compared to _ours_."

"Oh...we'll see old man..._we'll see_," Praxis glowered menacingly, backing away slowly, pointing his stubby finger in Samos' direction. He chuckled manically a few times before he blindly collided with another big pine tree. What happened next would give Erol and Ashelin nightmares for weeks...

The Baron suddenly let out a war cry, screaming "This is _my _city!" before tearing his axe out of nowhere again and extracting his revenge on the tree that had "opposed" him. Five grunting, screaming, hacking, sap spewing, Baron belching seconds later, the tree was no more but a tattered and frayed stump in the ground, protruding from a puddle of sap.

Erol and Ashelin, having decided that the forest (and consequently, Samos) had suffered enough for one day, rushed to Praxis side, escorting him through the forest as tenderly as they could. Their efforts probably saved the majority of life forms dwelling there, but alas a few more trees, birds, lizards, butterflies, ancient rocks and tourists suffered at the hands of the Baron before the trio managed to get back to their obscurely parked hellcat. Ashelin being more relieved that the Precursor platform had held them up on the way back.

Clambering back inside, Praxis put his Spice Girls CD on full bore, gripping the steering wheel with determination, he gazed forwards bravely.

"Gentlemen, prepare for battle..." and with that, the Baron changed the gears into reverse and slammed his foot onto the pedal, the back of the vehicle soon slamming into the security wall behind them, instead of through the gradually opening air lock. Erol glanced at Ashelin questioningly once more, silently asking what it was Praxis intended to do within his futile attempt of reversing against the security wall. She shrugged back, as they both turned their attention back to Praxis, who had a bored, uncaring, un-noticing expression on his face as he continued to reverse against the giant concrete wall.

"Um, Baron sir...what are you trying to do? You do realise that you're reversing against the _wall _right? The door is about 3 feet to your left..." Erol shakily enquired after a short while of the Baron still not realising what he was doing.

"Oh sweetie, don't worry. Daddy has everything under control!" Praxis cheerfully chuckled back, only continuing to reverse. Erol sat further back in his seat, defeated, and kept quiet after that. Ashelin opted to do the same.

It was only after 5 more minutes of reversing did the trio finally have a breakthrough – literally. The sickening sound of rock cracking came from behind them, causing Erol and Ashelin to jump, turning around to notice a huge crack appearing behind the hellcat, on the wall.

"Oh...dear..." was all Erol had time to utter before the wall suddenly gave way underneath the hellcat's force. He and Ashelin screamed as they were suddenly sent flying backwards, Praxis on the other hand not seeming phased by it in the least.

They could only grip their seats helplessly, screaming in fear as the hellcat flew right through a huge crack it had created in the wall. High above the grassy terrains of the city, they decided that their time was surely up. This hellcat, travelling at this speed, falling from this height, would land them in hospital at least, for sure.

Well, that _would _have been the case, had Praxis not spent the last few weeks being obsessed with Tokyo Drift. He somehow, while still hosting his bored expression, managed to pull off a 180 drift in mid air, the sound of tyres screeching oddly sounded in Erol's ears as a huge 'smog wheelie' appeared in the air.

Erol and Ashelin screamed harder as their bodies were thrown around in the back seat violently. The hellcat looked as though it was going to nose dive into the tattered path leading towards the forest now, and Erol could only hope that the strangely calm Praxis had some plan of getting out of this.

With a crash landing imminent, Erol contemplated jumping out of the moving vehicle, but before he could make up his mind, they'd collided with something. Something big, squishy, greasy and wearing tattered, stained green clothes. Krew. Upon the collision, a small explosion erupted and the citizens around the crash site contemplated on whether their tyrannous, food obsessed Baron had finally been exterminated.

A sudden blur of red and white (and the continuing blare of the Spice Girls "Say You'll Be There") zooming out of the cloud of destruction created from the blast, shot down this hopeful theory, and people once more were expected to leap from the Baron's low ground path it they expected to live. Erol stared back at the damage site, and spotted Krew lying on his back, his legs and arms waving around helplessly as he couldn't get up. His chair lay in smouldering pieces around him.

Sig, who was nearby, had only one thing to say before he ran off fearfully, "This is a mission for Jak!"

"Father!" Ashelin screamed, as a recently reconstructed fruit stall exploded before her, "You _killed _Krew!"

"Excellent! Now _I _shall be the largest gentleman in the land!" Praxis boomed proudly.

"Um...what about Kleiver?" Erol meekly asked.

"_Kleiver_..." Praxis simply hissed, his eye narrowing as he clutched the steering wheel tighter, zooming off towards the slums.

* * *

Christmas in the Underground was a long and arduous task, usually dumped solely on the shoulders of Torn. Alone, he was expected to hang tinsel, decorate the Chrissy tree, and nail up ornaments about the place. Having already done the first two tasks within the morning, Torn was now nailing a small missal toe into the arch in the ceiling at the end of the row of bunk beds.

"Careful Torn, we don't want any broken thumbs..." he cooed lightly, gingerly positioning the missal toe and nail, his fingers gripping his hammer. Raising his hand upwards, he was about to hammer the nail in when suddenly, a soft thumping in the distance caught him off guard.

"Whoa!" he cried, stumbling a little as he tried to regain his footing on the stepladder he was standing on. "What the heck _is _that? Is it the Christmas parade already?"

Torn was left trying to process what the gradually approaching noise was, soon discovering that it seemed to be some form of musical bass. He laid it down to being punk teens abusing their sub-woofers, shrugging off the hassle it was creating and returning to his decorating.

Becoming immersed in his hammering, Torn was oblivious to the ever approaching booming and thumping. He was securing the small piece of greenery into place when he finally realized that it had gotten so close, that he could coherently decipher the sound of women singing along to the beat. Now of all times, while he was helpless and unprepared, innocently hanging up his decorations, he was about to be ambushed.

"Th-that's no parade! No punk teens! That's--"

"PAAAAAAAAAAAR-TYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!"

And in he came, bounding down the stairs, causing a miniature earthquake in the Underground, his flab wobbling violently with each hefty step. Torn could only scream in horror and surprise as the Baron not only intruded his base, but also came charging towards him.

"Must put up, _missal toe_!" Torn strained, hurrying to continue his nailing in the short time he had before Praxis get in range of him. He yelled frantically, hitting his thumb a few hundred times, turning it a sickly purple colour.

"Oooh, tree!" Praxis gleefully beamed, bounding ever closer. Upon hearing this, Torn screamed harder, managing to force the nail in as far as it could go before he ungracefully leapt out of harm's way. It wasn't a second too soon as Praxis tore through on cue, taking-out the stepladder while his eager looking eye fell upon a smallish tree on the left wall of the Underground.

The Baron raced towards it, anticipation on his face as he wrapped his arms around its pot and, whilst making incoherent noises of panic, he started running back towards the Underground stairs. Passing underneath the missal toe, without any warning he reached up and grabbed it, pulling it out of the ceiling and stealing it.

"You can't take that tree! Jak got it from Damas!" Torn screamed, only to be silenced when the stray nail from the missal toe hit him in the face, causing a nasty little prick. He cried out slightly, clasping his hands to his upper lip where it had struck.

Meanwhile back outside, Erol and Ashelin were patiently waiting in the hellcat, the Spice Girls doing little to block out the crashing and screaming coming from behind the closed Underground door. They were wondering whether they should check on Praxis when suddenly the big cement door slid open and through the doorway, they spotted Praxis; waddle-running up the stairs with...a potted palm in his hands?

Why on Earth had he picked _that _up? Neither would have time to ask as they became distracted, watching as Praxis suddenly came into a little predicament. The only thing _little_ about it being the size of the doorway. The palm was far too tall for it, but the relentless Baron would not have it, and instead kept on trying to force the tree through the door, only succeeding in snapping the thin trunk in half. The green leaves of the tree pitifully fell in a heap on the steps and Praxis continued his exit.

Peering inside, Erol saw Torn crumpled on the ground, hands clasped over his mouth as he wailed uncomfortably. Wondering what had happened to him, Erol sincerely hoped that it had nothing to do with the missal toe clasped in the Baron's hand.

"Get back here you fat, thieving bast-" Torn screamed before the Underground door closed, hiding him from view and earshot.

Reaching the hellcat, Praxis hurled what was left of the tree, for some reason, into the driver's seat, and jumped into the back next to Erol.

"DRIVE!" the Baron roared, staring ahead at the end of the ally with fear and excitement on his face.

It took five minutes for him to realise that _he _in fact had been the one driving.

* * *

Upon noticing that the hellcat wasn't driving, Praxis had screamed some abuse at Erol, before switching seats with the destroyed palm tree. Revving the engine, they had backed out of the alley, destroying the surrounding slum buildings as they did so, and then continued on their journey.

At the moment they were flying through the industrial section, Praxis declaring that the tree he'd stolen from the Underground would be fine for Christmas. Praying that Veger had gotten them a suitable tree behind the scenes, Erol decided he wouldn't argue, and instead kept quiet.

Praxis, who was maintaining a bored expression once more, was driving at a casual pace, still at ground level, when suddenly he let out a loud, thrilled gasp. The two in the backseat didn't have time to process what this meant as Praxis instantly made a sharp turn left, slamming his foot down onto the accelerator in the process. Erol and Ashelin tried to balance themselves as they were thrown about in the back seat, groaning. The worst punishment, however, was dished out to the poor potted palm, that had been violently thrown from the backseat when the car had swerved. It flew out the car, shattering on the ground in an explosion of dirt and porcelain – rejected. Erol and Ashelin could only stare back at it, shock on their faces.

Before anyone had time to protest about this, Praxis had manoeuvred the car into another Tokyo drift. A huge one that managed to span them up the road slightly and into a parking lot, then finally in the same drift, he'd parked them neatly and flawlessly into a single parking space, surrounded by other vehicles.

It took a moment for Erol to survey his surroundings, soon recognizing the giant, glowing M on the building behind them. Assuming Praxis was here for food, Erol sent Ashelin, who looked horrified, a worried glance.

"Um...time for a feed already, Baron sir?" Erol anxiously asked, sitting forwards slightly. Praxis chuckled at him, flicking his hand sarcastically.

"No, no," he chortled, "We're here for _that_!"

Erol followed his point, soon spotting a beautiful, glowing Christmas tree through one of the restaurant windows. It would seem that Praxis had somehow spotted that tree, from two streets away, with his single, beady eye. Erol didn't know whether to be scared or impressed.

"Oh...okay..." the Commander uttered, sitting back in his seat slowly.

"I'll go get it then," Praxis declared cheerfully, unbuckling his seatbelt and clambering out of the hellcat, having the _liberty _to leave the Spice Girls on for Erol and Ashelin to enjoy. They watched him waddle towards the restaurant, feeling sorry for whoever was in there right now. Upon his entry they saw a few people run out, screaming. Turning back in their seats, blocking the McDonalds building from view, they exchanged worrisome glances.

Time passed slowly as they waited for the Baron to return. It must've been at least 15 minutes later by the time he returned. He shuffled back to the hellcat, a big, satisfied smile on his face as he climbed back into the driver's seat. The first thing Erol noticed was the lack of tree. The second thing Erol noticed was the big, brown, McDonald's printed bag in the Baron's hand, a half eaten burger in his other.

"Um...father?" Ashelin shakily asked from the backseat, "What....what happened to getting the tree?"

Praxis paused his chewing, turning his head to look at Erol (for some odd reason) and then back to the McDonalds' window, where he could clearly see their Christmas tree sitting there. He said nothing for a moment, but upon swallowing a chunk of burger in his mouth he did an embarrassed sounding laugh.

"Oh, silly me!" he casually declared through his giggling. Rolling his eyes playfully he clambered back out of the hellcat and toddled back to the restaurant, still laughing. Erol and Ashelin watched him cautiously until he disappeared out of sight.

Thoughts and questions began flying around their heads as they sat back properly in their seats. Why hadn't Praxis gotten the tree? Had he merely gone in and forgotten why he was there, and decided it was for food instead? Had he carelessly joined the back of the line without thinking? Or had the manager spotted him circling the Christmas tree and had haggled with him to leave it alone? Perhaps the restaurant had just possessed him and obliterated anything but big macs, milk shakes and fries from his head.

Whatever the reason was, Erol and Ashelin were just grateful that it had been cleared up now.

Or so they thought...

Another fifteen minutes passed of blaring Spice Girls music and awkward glances from strangers, before Praxis resurfaced from the restaurant. Hearing his unmistakable footsteps, Erol didn't bother turning to look at him.

"So how did it...go...?" Erol asked, his once happy expression fading when the Baron came into view. Still no tree; just another two bags. Praxis stopped next to the hellcat, peering at Erol questioningly.

"How did what go?" Praxis asked, his tone sounding oblivious.

"Uh...well the tree--" Erol began only to be silenced when Ashelin, stepped on his foot.

"Uh, your food ordering, of course!" Ashelin hurried to replace, laughing uneasily afterwards. Praxis stared blankly at them for a moment, before his face suddenly broke into a big happy grin. He made some incoherent noises of happiness, nodding his head, before he climbed back into the hellcat.

Ashelin indicated for Erol to keep quiet once Praxis was distracted, the Commander nodding in understanding. Praxis began gorging on a big, greasy burger as he started up the engine. He somehow smoothly reversed out of the parking spot with one hand, zooming out of the parking lot a second later.

They began heading towards the Port after this, Praxis continuing his gorge-fest and driving around with his knees now. Erol, upon deciding that they must be going home, realized that Veger may not have got the _real_ tree ready yet. If Praxis got home and realized he hadn't bought back a tree, or saw one in the process of getting put up/decorated, he could very well act on impulse and a rampage could result. With this is mind, Erol sighed with defeat.

"So um...what about the Christmas tree?" he enquired, ignoring the shock that flashed over Ashelin's face as she stared at him, dumbfounded.

As soon as Praxis registered what Erol had said, he slammed on the breaks, his eye wide. Stray McDonalds packaging and food flew from the front of the car, carried by the momentum. Erol watched sorrily as it flew everywhere before him, one particular citizen being unfortunate enough to have a half chewed big mac explode all over him.

Praxis slowly turned around in his seat, his face contorted with rage.

"Uh...maybe...we could keep looking?" Erol asked, nervously staring into Praxis eye. Suddenly the Baron's angry face softened into a look of glee.

"Good idea!" Praxis beamed, turning back to the steering wheel. Erol sighed with relief, though soon crying out as Ashelin kicked him harshly in the leg. He sent her an annoyed look, but found she was intent on ignoring him, glaring straight ahead instead. Erol sighed, giving up; he just hoped this whole Christmas ordeal wouldn't be as horrible as it was beginning to sound.

* * *

The hellcat was pottering along the Industrial Section sometime later, when suddenly Praxis seemed to be sniffing the air. Somehow, with his metallic little nose, he could smell something in the distance, and no matter how hard Erol or Ashelin tried, they couldn't even catch a whiff of what it could be. They sat, taking long breaths through their noses, sitting upright in their seats, trying to figure out what Praxis was smelling. They met no avail, and thus gave up, watching as the Baron hunched over the steering wheel, still sniffing.

"_Tree_..." he suddenly hissed, and with that the hellcat jolted to life, travelling at an incredible speed through the city streets. People were screaming and diving out the way once more, and Erol and Ashelin could do nothing but grip their seats for dear life.

It seemed like the treacherously speedy ride would never end, but suddenly Praxis began to slow down. The hellcat gradually came to be going at a mere 3km/hr and, a closer inspection would declare that they were slowly turning to go up a pedestrian ramp. Staring ahead, Erol realised they were headed for the Power Station.

The Commander's gaze was soon broken when the hellcat began to wobble about, unbalanced. He peered over the edge and realized that the ramp wasn't nearly as wide as it needed to be to accommodate the hellcat's width. Sparks were flying out from underneath the hellcat, and a sickly grinding noise was erupting from beneath, as it slowly ascended up the ramp. He found that it was leaning in his favour, trying to capsize itself, so in a hurry he tried to rush to Ashelin's side of the vehicle. Shakily they both tried to steady the hellcat, but it was in vain as Praxis insisted on cheerfully swaying from side to side in time with his music.

It was an arduous task, trying to keep the hellcat balanced, but it all paid off when the trio found themselves "safely" hovering along the wider, higher, _flatter_ part of the ramp, towards the Power Station doors. Praxis kept the pace rather slow, Erol assuming it was because he aimed for a gradual stop.

When the breaks were suddenly slammed down, causing mild whiplash for both Erol and Ashelin, that theory was thrown away.

Eagerly, the Baron began sniffing the air again, hopping out of the hellcat as he did so. Ashelin, feeling Praxis couldn't be trusted alone again, and fearing for Vin's safety, decided she'd follow him in. Erol decided he'd stay in the hellcat to make sure _Jak _didn't steal it, like he had a tendency to do when he saw a _special _vehicle parked in the street. Yes, that yellow haired eco-freak would gladly abandon a perfectly fine _normal _zoomer in favour of something more interesting and forbidden.

Hesitantly, Ashelin followed her father into the Power Station, still wondering what he could smell. She couldn't smell anything particularly unusual, just the same old city smog. It was only once she was in the middle of the room could she smell something.

It was pine. She looked about the room, searching for the source of the smell and soon spotted a little plastic Christmas tree (probably coated in pine freshener for added touch), sitting on a stool near one of the control panels. That, however, wasn't the only thing she saw.

From behind one of the control panels she spotted what appeared to be a cowering Vin. Ah, he must've heard the beat of the Spice Girls coming towards him from the down the street and decided to hide. She sent him a blank look before acting like she had seen nothing, turning to Praxis who was waddling towards the tree, a look of awe on his face.

"It's perfect!" he boomed, staring at it proudly.

Ashelin frowned; it was awfully cruel to take such a small tree from someone like Vin. It was probably the only one he had. Ever since a few years back, Vin had not trusted getting a real, large tree. Not since that fateful Christmas season where he had accidentally knocked one into the Power Station portal. It had come out at the Mining Station, rolled down the slope and into a big puddle of dark eco.

The workers in the area had assumed it was lost as it sank underneath the surface of the eco. If only they had been smarter and ran while they had the chance, for if they had, that maniacal, newly mutated tree would not have come out of the puddle and attacked them so easily. Brown, twig like arms that had sprouted had clawed their way out of the ooze, bringing the otherwise normal Christmas tree with it. A crazed, comical face that had appeared on the tree, with angry eyes, a mono-brow and a toothy, open mouthed frown, would give those workers nightmares for weeks as they were chased by the mutant tree.

To make matters worse, once it had dealt with them it had crawled back through the portal, and had gone on a rampage through the city. Praxis, feeling threatened and feeding off the people's _panic;_ came into the city with his own rampage and managed to chase the tree off. Now no one knew _where _it was, though some _had _reported seeing it in the wasteland a few months later.

Ashelin shuddered at the memory. She couldn't blame Vin for buying this little plastic thing instead for a tree. That ordeal would've put anyone off, had they been responsible for it.

"Um...isn't it...a little small for the Palace?" Ashelin asked, trying to save Vin the effort and torment of having to find another tree. Praxis chuckled at this, as though it was mere idiocy.

"Of _course not_! With a tree this small, my size shall be complimented tenfold!" Praxis beamed heroically, grabbing the tree and stuffing it violently under his sweaty armpit, heading for the door. Ashelin sent Vin and apologetic look and followed Praxis out of the Power Station. She sighed in defeat, jumping back into the hellcat before it became unbalanced by the Baron's weight.

Climbing into the driver's seat, Praxis placed the tree next to him, eyeing Erol suspiciously for some reason before he put his seatbelt back on, turning his music up even louder in victory of finding a tree.

And so, declaring that it was home time, Praxis violently swerved the hellcat around without warning, not bothering to use the ramp to get down, and instead driving the vehicle clean off the side of the boardwalk. The hellcat did a nosedive, denting the bonnet slightly and making a sicking crunch as it hit the ground.

Once it had levelled itself out again, Praxis revved the engine and off they zoomed towards the Port. The Baron, since finding some burgers left from his earlier raid in McDonalds, had begun gorging again, and they had reached Mar's Tomb by the time the next little ordeal of the day began to unfold.

Grumpily, Praxis had realised he had some form of lettuce stuck in his teeth, and, disliking the idea of something _healthy _being trapped there, he began picking at it with his stumpy fingers. When his short nails did nothing to remove the offending vegetable matter, the Baron, with a clueless look on his face, brainlessly picked up Vin's little Christmas tree and began using it as a tooth pick, much to Erol and Ashelin's dismay. They sat cringing in the backseat, unsure of whether they should risk telling him to stop.

Before either of them had the chance to even utter a single word to Praxis however, the Baron had grown satisfied with the state of his teeth and had thrown the tree, now accustomed with a shred of chewed lettuce wrapped around its top, over his shoulder and out of the moving hellcat.

Erol cried out, trying to grab the tree as it flew over his head, only to fail. It landed pitifully near the side of Mar's Tomb, abandoned.

"Uh...Baron sir? The tree...you just threw it out the hellcat, sir..." Erol bravely informed, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction that the tree had just flown in. Praxis, upon hearing this, slammed on the breaks, giving everyone whiplash once more. Praxis casually turned slightly in his seat to face Erol, a relaxed look on his face.

"What was that, Sweetie? Daddy couldn't hear you because he was driving..." Praxis sweetly asked, ignoring the sound and chaos as people in the vicinity took the opportunity to run for their lives.

"Um...the tree..." Erol uttered, pointing to the tree lying on the ground a few metres behind them. Praxis let out another one of his embarrassed chuckles, waving his hand around in a dismissive manner for a moment before he turned back to the steering wheel. He shifted the car into reverse, leaning out the side of the car closest to the tree to get a better look at it as he slowly approached it.

His leaning managed to unbalance the hellcat to the extent that the side of the car he was leaning on began to scrape against the cement ground, causing sparks to fly about again. He was about 2 metres away from it when, for some odd reason, he started saying "You're good....you're good" over and over again. Ashelin rolled her eyes while Erol just internally groaned.

Now, despite apparently having an edge for speedy driving and Tokyo drifts, the one thing the Baron had proved he was appalling at doing in a vehicle, was reversing. It definitely was not his forte, and as Erol and Ashelin would soon learn that would be their ultimate downfall of the day.

For within the Baron's attempt at collecting the little tree, he only managed to reverse the descended edge of the hellcat over it, grinding it into the pavement. The tree got caught up underneath it and was dragged harshly across the ground; its "trunk" becoming mangled and twisted around as it was pulverized into the pavement. Some fake green needles came off the tree, scattering sadly along the Baron's trail of destruction.

Even despite the fact that Praxis could clearly see he had reached, and was now destroying the tree, he still kept reversing saying the same line "You're good...you're good" repetitively. The jets at the back of the hellcat soon began to melt the poor little tree as it was dragged across the ground, it's newly liquefied areas causing a sickly green smear on the cement as though someone had stood on a cucumber and had gotten it off their boot by dragging it across the ground a few times.

Erol sent Ashelin a questioning look, noticing some of the green smear from the other side of the hellcat. She just shook her head back at him, looking pale and disturbed, indicating that he didn't want to know.

"You're good....you're good..." the Baron continued. He said it another few times before becoming annoyed and deciding that this plan wasn't working. "Bah! Erol, get out of the hellcat and get it!" he bellowed, slamming on the breaks. Shakily Erol did as he was told, climbing from the hellcat, he moved around it, scooping up the melted, twisted remains of the tree.

"Um...I think it's lost sir..." Erol sadly admitted, holding it high enough so Praxis could see the remains. Rage flashed across the Baron's face as he suddenly let out earth shattering belch that caught Erol off guard.

"This is _MY _city!" Praxis angrily bellowed following his belch of protest, angrily he revved the engine of the hellcat, changing the gears back to accelerate. Ashelin had a split second to grab Erol and pull him back into the vehicle before Praxis slammed his hefty foot onto the pedal. Erol was mentally cursing at Ashelin for ruining his window of escape, but soon found his mind to be preoccupied with more important worries as Praxis entered into another big drift, flying around the front of Mar's tomb and onto the opposite side of it than where they had previously been.

People were running and screaming, trying feebly to avoid being taken out by the drift. There was only one person, apparently dumb or distracted enough not to realise the danger he was in. He was doing awkward dance moves with his backside, arms and head as he strolled along, apparently listening to a (pink) iPod.

Cigarette sticking out of his mouth, black hair slicked back, red coat waving in the air majestically and kiddie-pop songs blaring from his earphones, Razer had no clue of the danger that was approaching him from behind. Ashelin was screaming at him ineffectively to get out the way, but he was unaware to it all and, in a split second, he was all but dragged into the horrible ordeal that Erol and Ashelin had been enduring for most of the day.

A hand suddenly grabbed him from behind, around his neck, and brutally he was pulled off the ground and thrown into the back of someone's vehicle. Squirming to sit upright, it dawned on him what horror he'd been sucked into.

"Oh no...not _you_..." he uttered, staring at Praxis with a forlorn expression on his face. Horrible memories of being captured by the large man and treated like a common household pet came flooding back to him.

"Bad dog! How dare you run away!" Praxis boomed angrily, shaking a beefy finger at Razer, not watching where he was driving anymore, though continuing to accelerate. Erol cringed as a trash can exploded upon impact when it was hit by the hellcat. "But don't worry, because Ashelin, girl Ashelin and Daddy are looking for a Christmas tree, and the family pet is _always _invited!" Praxis cheered happily, turning back around to watch where he was driving.

"Oh...goodie..." Razer groaned sarcastically, eyeing Erol and Ashelin on either side of him, "So then where are we going...?"

Praxis began to laugh manically from the front seat.

"We're going...to _Spargus_!" he evilly declared, pushing the hellcat faster as he zoomed out into the Port, soon flying off the sidewalk and into the water. He picked up more speed, heading straight for the security wall. The three victims in the backseat screamed as they realised Praxis had no intention of slowing down. They were going to collide with the wall, explode, and then drown. What a lovely way to go, a week before Christmas...

They closed their eyes in anticipation for the crash when they were about a metre away from the wall, but strangely, the explosion never happened. Cracking her eye open, Ashelin realised that, somehow, they were driving straight up the vertical wall, defying gravity.

"What the?" Razer pondered, opening his eyes and too realizing what was going on.

"How in the world did this happen?" Ashelin asked him, chancing a glance at the water behind them.

"It's Praxis," Erol simply replied, "He moves in mysterious ways..."

"OOOH! I _love _that song!" Praxis chimed in all of a sudden, "_It's a light, it's a light, aaa light...beer moves in mysterious ways_!" he began to poorly sing over his Spice Girls, the two songs melding to create a horrible melody.

If nothing else for the moment, Razer, Erol and Ashelin just hoped that the Spice Girls never signed up for a duet with U2...

* * *

They had been travelling across the sandy dunes of Spargus for a short time when suddenly a tiny speck came into view in the distance. Praxis, seemingly knowing what this particular speck was, suddenly hunched over the steering wheel, hissing a single name under his breath.

"_Kleiver_...."

Erol sent a nervous glance to Razer who in turn sent a nervous glance to Ashelin. Ashelin sent the same look back to Razer, then Razer sent it back Erol, and Erol shot it back at Razer and thus the cycle continued until their attention was brought instead to a suddenly visible Kleiver.

He was pottering along slowly in the Sand Puppy, his flab overflowing out of it and jiggling playfully in time with the engine's purr. He didn't realise he was being pursued until Praxis took the liberty of giving him a gentle nudge from behind.

Shocked, Kleiver turned his head to see better and, much to his horror, he spotted Praxis tail-gating him. A uninterested look was splayed across the Baron's face, but in this big wide desert, Kleiver _knew _that it couldn't be a mistake that Praxis had buffed him.

Normally the large, scary, Australian-accented wastelander wouldn't waste a second to obliterate someone who had been so rude as to pick a fight with him, but in this particular setting it was painfully obvious that he was far outmatched in his little defenceless Sand Puppy, compared to the big, heavily armed hellcat. He could do nothing but push his boot further down onto the accelerator and drive for dear life as he was pursued.

Praxis countered this by speeding up too, keeping his bored gaze fixated on Kleiver's retreating form. Occasionally Kleiver would peer behind him, watching fearfully as the hellcat would not relent on chasing him. They must've chased the large man for miles before finally, the Spargus chimney came into view. Kleiver veered of somewhere, and Praxis was too overjoyed about finally reaching his destination to bother chasing him down, instead indicating left and heading towards the huge gate.

It gradually opened up for him and he slowly drove the hellcat up to the entrance of the city, waiting for the doors to open before he entered the dusty streets. He drove down the road at a leisurely pace, instinct directing him towards the Arena.

The hellcat slowly ascended the stairs, Praxis parking it soon after inside the Arena hallway. Everyone clambered out (Razer commenting that his backside had fallen asleep) and followed Praxis around and out into the entrance of the battle area.

"There...that is the one..." the Baron cooed softly, pointing up at a large pine tree beautifully decorated, situated next to Damas' throne on the higher ledge. The others made noises of awe as they stared up at it too.

It took Praxis ten minutes to figure out a way up to the tree without falling into the lava, but when he finally got there a look of majesty would not fade from his face.

"You will make a _fine _addition to our Christmas!" Praxis declared, reaching out to the tree. One of Praxis' greatest flaws was his habit of underestimating the size of his gut in comparison to the length of his arms.

Sadly, this little flaw came into play now of all times and, as Praxis advanced on the tree, his belly unceremoniously pushed it off the ledge. Razer, Erol and Ashelin watch in exasperation, letting out a loud, tiresome groan as the tree hurdled down to its doom, most of it burning up from the heat before it even had a chance to hit the lava below.

"Father!" Ashelin groaned loudly at him while Erol and Razer made random noises of annoyance. This whole tree thing had become too much trouble for what it was really worth.

"Okay, okay, everyone calm down! I have a solution..." Praxis hurried to repent, feeling the brunt of everyone's blame. He jumped back down onto the lower ledge, his landing weight causing a great crack to appear on it which the others didn't particularly want to gamble with – thus they went the other way.

They met up back at the hellcat, everyone climbing in. Praxis somehow managed to manoeuvre it out without breaking anything and once back in the city streets, the Baron's face turned evilly happy. He was plotting.

"Damas is _bound _to have another in his _Palace,_" Praxis growled, literally pushing through a crowd of Wastelanders to get to the lift leading up to Damas' throne room. He broke several planks of wood trying to drive the hellcat into the lift, and even more trying to drive it out, but once it was parked, dangerously teetering on the footpath above two water pools, he clambered out once more.

A huge tree was situated near a window, the nearby ocean creating a lovely backdrop for it.

"Ah, what a lovely sight you are..." Praxis uttered, extending his arms and advancing on the big Christmas tree.

Meanwhile outside, up near the gun turret, Damas was teaching Jak the importance of gun maintenance when suddenly he heard a big crash coming from his cliff engraved Palace. With shock he spun around to stare up at it just in time to see his godly Christmas tree (that he had hunted and decorated himself) come crashing out of the window above. It hurled onto the rocky cliffs below, ornaments breaking off and lights exploding, causing miniature fires to sprout up on the tree as it harshly rolled down the slope. It was bashed around another few times before finally it fell into the ocean below where it floated around for a while looking deflated. It began drifting out to see, Jak wondering whether there was a way to save it.

Damas on the other hand, was speechless. His tree, his precious Christmas tree – murdered. But who could do such a thing? Squinting up at his throne room he could see the faintest silhouette of Praxis, his stance looking frantic and panicked as though he was rushing to figure out a way to hide.

"Is...is that _Praxis_?" Damas asked, staring up at the cowering form. Jak began squinting up at the throne room too.

"I think...it is..." Jak slowly responded.

"What is _he _doing here?" Damas yelled furiously.

"Uh...I think it's pretty obvious, Dad..." Jak said, pointing down to the tree still floating in the ocean.

"Oh..." Damas uttered, watching his tree for a moment before suddenly a big purple octopus tentacle wrapped around it, violently pulling it under the water, never to return.

"Okay! That's it!" Damas screamed, glaring back up at the throne room angrily. Praxis must've somehow noticed him down there and made eye contact with him, because suddenly his pose changed and a loud, girlish squeal echoed from the throne room's general direction. The sound of an engine roaring and numerous yells, crashes and explosions followed and, enraged, Damas began sprinting towards his throne room.

He reached the lift just in time to see the distant image of Praxis' hellcat zooming off into the distance, a long line of wood dragging along behind it. Damas growled angrily, turning to look instead at his now mutilated lift, a distinct hellcat shape evident in its metal door.

Going up to inspect the damage Praxis had created, Damas had a feeling that Christmas this year (and like all years where Praxis was involved), would be one big annoyance after the next.

* * *

Back with Praxis, it seemed the spooked Baron had new plans...

"It's alright everyone, we can just go steal Kleiver's instead!" Praxis shakily declared, obviously panicked due to being so last minute with the tree collecting. Erol sighed, finally having enough of this.

"Why do we need to _steal _someone's tree?" he asked, sounding annoyed, "Why can't you just _find _your own?!"

Praxis seemed to grow offended by this outburst, letting out an amazed, though at the same time, appalled gasp.

"How _dare _you!" the Baron roared, turning in his seat to shake his fist angrily at Erol. More angry, raging abuse followed and Praxis blindly ploughed through several buildings, stalls and people on his way out of Spargus. Before they knew it, the Baron had turned back around in his seat and was pouting angrily, hunched over the steering wheel, muttering to himself every now and then as he drove out into the desert.

They continued like this for about 20 minutes, the hellcat soon entering, oddly enough, a smallish pine forest. They hadn't passed through here on the way to Spargus, so the trio in the back were rather glorified by the forest's beauty. They were quite enjoying the peace and quiet, not to mention the nice patch of grass that was somehow growing out here.

"So...why can't we just get one of these pine trees?" Razer asked after a short while.

"We're looking for a Christmas tree, not a _pine _tree...fool," Praxis growled, turning his attention back ahead of him. Razer and the others tried to process this for a moment but soon failed when Praxis suddenly started screaming unintelligible abuse. They wondered whom it was directed at for a moment before they noticed two people in the distance.

Splayed out in a grassy patch, they seemed to be in love, staring at each other dreamily.

"Oh Edmund," the girl sighed up at the pale, drugged-out looking boy.

"Oh Stella," he tonelessly, unenthusiastically mumbled back, his features dazzling and pretty, making any other male have a strong sense of _chagrin_ towards him.

They sighed at each other lazily for a moment before suddenly the sound of the Baron's yelling must've reached their ears.

"You dumb kids! Get outta my way! You stupid..." he continued to scream from a distance, most of what he was saying illogical. By this stage the Baron was standing up in his seat, waving around his formerly discarded axe, while still steering the hellcat with one hand.

The couple had no choice but to up and run for their lives as Praxis approached. He tore through their little get together site within seconds, but kept going instead of bothering to chase them. Once he was a certain distance away from them, the Baron seemed to calm down, sitting back down in his seat and driving a little more sanely.

The trip then continued in silence for the remaining time it took to reach Haven city. Praxis was still pouting and occasionally mumbling abuse under his breath. It wasn't until they reached Mar's Tomb did Praxis speak up.

"This is all that Sage's fault!" he growled, "Well, I've got a bone to pick with _him_!"

And with that, Praxis floored the accelerator, zooming towards the Palace. He reached a certain distance of it, then suddenly noticed something sparkling prettily up in one of the higher windows. He gasped, taking his foot off the pedal and letting the momentum carry the hellcat until it softly collided with a wall.

"That tree...it's...beautiful!" Praxis beamed, awestruck. He stayed there, fixated for a moment before suddenly he veered away from the wall, determination coming across his face as he drove up to the entrance of the Palace. He jumped from the vehicle before he had properly parked it, dashing up the stairs, his flab bounding all over the place majestically.

Erol, Ashelin and Razer watched with wonderment and confusion as the Baron disappeared from view. They heard crashing and yelling coming from the Palace, soon staring up at the tree Praxis had seen. Its must've been the one Veger had been told to organize – made more probable as the said head of council was visibly still decorating the huge pine.

The trio in the car watched in horror, the Spice Girls still blaring from the stereo, as Veger suddenly looked mortified, screaming girlishly as he hurried away from the tree. Praxis soon came into view, grabbing the tree and violently slinging it under his arm, squashing it slightly.

Sand from the tree's pot and ornaments flew all over the place and pine needles went in all directions as Praxis hurried to cart the once beautiful tree down the lift and out the front doors of the Palace. He came out the entrance within a short while, flab still bouncing, panting ruggedly. He harshly threw the tree into the backseat, destroying it some more and crushing Erol, Ashelin and Razer in doing so.

Praxis then clambered into the driver's seat, bursting the hellcat into life as he zoomed it around the corner. Oddly enough he did a complete lap of the Palace, soon ending up back in front of the entrance, where he grabbed the tree again, destroying it some more as he ran with it back into the enormous building. He managed to reach the lift, racing to put the tree back where he'd originally found it.

He came to the window and gave thumbs up to the three still sitting in his hellcat. They were flabbergasted. Confused and disorientated.

"You know Erol...you _did _tell him to find his _own _tree..." Ashelin uttered after a while.

"Yes...I...suppose he did..." Erol replied, still staring up at the beaming Praxis and the forlorn looking Veger.

It took some time for Erol to climb into the driver's seat and park the hellcat in the garage. The trio then made their way up the lift, soon reaching the room where they'd seen the Christmas tree. It was even more beautiful up close, despite the damage it had obviously undertaken from Praxis' little rampage.

"I stole it good!" the loveable Baron chimed happily as Erol approached the tree.

"You sure did sir, you sure did..." Erol smiled weakly, really just being glad that the whole ordeal was over with for another year.

"Now for the final touches!" Praxis declared, pulling out his special tree top decorator. It was an ornament of him, the size, shape and weight of a bowling ball. Heroically Praxis reached up and placed it on the tree, stepping back to admire his work. Everyone else took a step back too, though mainly out of worry as Praxis' ornament had drooped the top of the tree down so low that it was almost touching the ground, it's opposite side, facing the window, arched and straining in a way they did not think was possible for a tree.

Unfazed by the obvious worry, Praxis left the room, satisfied, probably to gorge. Razer left soon after, complaining that he needed a smoke. Veger, Erol and Ashelin were left to eye the tree fearfully.

"Do you think it'll hold?" Erol asked.

"Probably not..." Ashelin replied.

"Let's get out of here..." Veger added.

The others agreed, figuring the situation in this room was just like a ticking time bomb, prone to go off at any moment.

And eventually it did. No one was around to witness it, but within time the tiniest ornament had fallen off the drooping side of the tree, and by some twisted order of events it had unbalanced the tree enough that the bowling ball Praxis-ornament had been catapulted through the glass window, over the city and into the distance.

Sometime later Erol had come into the room and realized it was missing, and shortly after that the Sand Puppy had come crashing down the Palace chimney, rolling out of the fireplace and colliding with the tree, somehow creating an explosion, which was accompanied by the 'Mission Failed' noise.

Erol could only watch with wide eyes, soon finding a somehow unscathed note attached to the charred Sand Puppy.

'That's for destroying my chimney, you fat oaf! Now how's Santa gonna find us?' it read in Damas' handwriting.

"Oh dear..." Erol simply uttered, opting to keep Praxis as far away from the tree as possible until Christmas was over. He didn't think he could handle another tree hunt, nor could he handle what might happen if he somehow came across Damas whilst searching for another one.

He was certain that this would all end in some kind of Baron vs. King brawl, but strangely enough it never did. And to make things odder, on the morning of glorious Christmas day the air train descended at the Port and out came a happy looking Damas.

With a present in his hands he began walking along the Port, towards the Palace. Praxis soon appeared ahead of him and they coincided near Mar's Tomb.

With stupid smiles on their faces they exchanged presents. Damas handed over a round object, wrapped in paper to Praxis, and Praxis in turn pushed a larger object with wheels, poorly wrapped, towards Damas.

Tearing the paper away, Praxis realised it was a "new" bowling ball tree ornament, designed to look like him. He smiled gleefully at it.

"Just what I wanted! You know I once had one exactly like this...it disappeared a few days ago..." Praxis happily declared.

Damas, who had torn off the wrapping from his present beamed happily back at Praxis, climbing atop the vehicle.

"I once had something exactly like this too!" he agreed, happily, patting the seat of the girly, pink painted bicycle that Praxis had made him. Oh, if only Kleiver could see what had become of his once beloved vehicle...

As the two leaders came together in harmony, Christmas in Haven was somehow a success. Well...not really if you look at Praxis' trail of destruction...but as long as the Baron had fun it was a success because let's face it; a happy Baron is a calm Baron, and a calm Baron produces less fatal rampages...

So really, in all, it was a win-win situation for the young and old of the big city of Haven...

* * *

**Bijoux: Did that make up for our long absence? The idea was a joint effort between Corad and I, but for some odd reason I was selected to write it D: Just as a side note to anyone who cares, Palace Stories is not 'dead', just infrequently updated. We'll tell you all if we decide to stop updating :)**


	37. Job Seeker Praxis

**Bijoux: Time for another update it seems :D And there are a few others on the way in the coming weeks once I've proof read them. Thanks to anyone who was gracious enough to give us a review for the last chapter. Reviews encourage us to write stupider/more often so keep them coming if you've got the time :) **

**OLD CHAPTERS ARE BEING REFURBISHED. If anyone has grown attached to the current format of our older chapters then it might be wise to save a copy of them. Bath-Carting is undergoing some big improvements at the moment and will hopefully be ready to put up within the not to distant future (though nobody should hold their breath about that). **

**This chapter might be a little lengthier again just as a heads up. I believe my writing style has become a bit more intelligent/detailed as well so if I can have some feedback whether it's still funny that'd be great. Anyway, hope this chapter is up to everyone's standards ;) **

**Disclaimer: We don't own 'Jak and Daxter' or any other series/company/franchise that may be named/referred to in this story.**

* * *

**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**Job-Seeker Praxis**

* * *

There had been a look of disdain on the Baron's face recently. Nothing seemed to please him like it once had; not even food could lure him from his apparent depression. Erol, Ashelin and Veger had noticed Praxis slowly slip into some kind of 'teenaged angst' trance. He was distant and grouchy towards the people he lived with, he slammed doors for no reason, he started going out late never to return, and he became blindly enraged when Ashelin forbid him access to an impending Spice Girls concert. On top of all that he kept throwing his rare pink iPod around whenever Veger accused him of stealing from his chocolate stash.

At the moment Praxis was pouting in his throne, and Erol was watching his Baron from below, wondering whatever was the matter with him. The commander was hoping for some insight, a clue as to what was bothering Praxis. Alas, he feared he would never get to the bottom of this predicament – well, not without getting brutally injured at least. The last few times he had tried to figure out/fix the cause of Praxis' problems he had ended up losing not only his dignity but a lot of blood too. In all honesty, the commander had met more pain whilst trying to help the Baron than when he was on the battlefield. He was starting to get sick of his job really…

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm the only one getting bored with this…" Erol uttered to himself, not realizing the sudden look of amazement that came across the elevated Baron's face.

"Wh…what did you say, Commander?" Praxis suddenly gasped, learning forwards on his throne in apparent anticipation. Shock overcame Erol's face, followed by fear, followed by a fake and nervous smile.

"Uh…when, Sir?" Erol asked, backing away from Praxis' throne as the large man suddenly scrambled to his feet, stumbling down the stairs with an awed look on his face.

"Just then! You said you're sick of being the Baron too?!" Praxis loudly whispered, catching up with Erol and coming within an inch of his worried face. Erol grew confused at this response, wondering what Praxis meant. Surely he was not trying to say that he no longer wished to be Baron?

It was a blessing for the city if Praxis had come to that revelation. If Praxis no longer wished to be in charge, then the city could prosper with Ashelin as its leader. There would be no more houses, hospitals and orphanages being demolished to create room for more McDonalds outlets. There would be no more unexpected, month-long Spice Girl concerts to live through. Most of all…there would be no more rampages.

A smile came to Erol's face; if he could encourage the Baron to give up his Baronish ways then…then everyone could live in peace and quiet! People would not have to worry that their home would suddenly be destroyed so that Praxis could avoid taking that one single extra step to get to fast food.

This was certainly a blessing…

"So, you don't wish to be Baron anymore, Sir?" Erol asked almost slyly, watching as Praxis' face turned to a look of relief. Finally someone understood the Baron's predicament – and Erol was going to milk it for all it was worth. Tears of joy seeped from Praxis' eye as he began to turn red and giggle like an idiot.

"I've waited for so long for someone to ask me that!" Praxis gasped, grasping his face in awe as if someone had just proposed to him.

"Really now? Well, we can't have you sitting around here being Baron if you don't want to be, Sir!" Erol chided, though still sounding a little too happy. Anyone else would've been able to pick up on the keenness in the Commander's voice, but Praxis seemed oblivious to it as he began to fan his face excitedly.

"So…you'll help me find a NEW job?" Praxis asked, grinning with happiness.

"Uh…sure…I suppose we can do that…" Erol uttered, wondering to himself whether that had been a wise thing to agree to. Oh well, if it got rid of the Baron fast, then why not.

A squeal of delight suddenly erupted from Praxis as he jumped around on his tippy-toes, the tears of joy drying up as if they had never been there.

"Finally, my prince has come to save me from the confines of being Baron! Quick, I must tell everyone!" Praxis cheered, suddenly racing off to tell the Palace of Erol's heroics.

The Baron's thumping footsteps and squealing echoed and disappeared into the distance, a few people screaming faraway as Praxis most likely trampled them in his crazed panic. Erol was then left with complete silence, a look of discomfort on his face.

"P…prince?" the Commander uttered, a look of confusion following it as he mentally gagged. Why did Praxis have a way of making anything seem disturbing? He was trying to block the thought from his head when suddenly Ashelin came raging into the throne room.

"EROL!" she yelled aggressively, making a beeline towards him.

"What now? Can't you see I'm trying to contend with your father's brainless drabble at the moment?" Erol asked, sounding bored as he turned to face the approaching Ashelin.

"WHY is my father rampaging around the Palace, bragging that his 'Prince' is going to rescue him from the tyrannous confines of Baron-ing?!" Ashelin growled, glaring daggers at Erol. "You know you shouldn't fill his head with lies like that! And don't say it wasn't you, because I have proof! Father gave me THIS a moment ago…" Ashelin hissed, passing Erol a crumpled piece of paper.

If he hadn't known better, he would've said that the 'illustration' beheld on this paper had been done by a 2-year-old. Two scribbled figures where holding hands (well, their scribbled arms were just connected at the bottom, really), one was a large…uh "woman"…wearing a white dress, with facial hair resembling Praxis'. The other scribble was a man with long flowing red hair and blue and yellow racing clothes on. On the top, written in what appeared to be tomato sauce, were the words 'me and my prince rescuing me from the asselin monster'. Erol snorted at these words, but soon stopped smiling upon noticing Ashelin's face becoming violently unimpressed.

"Wait…how did he draw this up and get it to you so fast?" Erol asked, looking puzzled.

"It's my father; he doesn't NEED to make sense…" Ashelin declared as two Baron Praxis' promptly came together in the background and began to converse in something excitedly.

"I…see…" Erol uttered, mesmerized as the two Praxis' giggled together a few feet away. "But Ashelin, your father doesn't want to be Baron anymore. If we can get him off the throne so easily, then you can takeover running the city and I—I mean WE won't have to put up with his crazy antics!" Erol explained, watching as Ashelin's angry expression seemed to ease up.

"So then…you actually INTEND to find him a new job to keep him preoccupied?" Ashelin asked, surprise slightly evident in her eyes.

"Yes, if we can get him a job somewhere that he enjoys and that keeps him distracted, we'll never have to put up with another 'civilian panic induced' rampage ever again! Think of it, it's genius! We can all stop living in terror of the Baron's feeble mind!" Erol declared excitedly, watching as Ashelin began to nod her head in agreement and understanding, putting the pieces together and realizing that Erol was in fact right about this.

And so, as the discussion progressed and a plan was formed, it seemed that after countless years of living in terror, Haven City may have just been given a glimmer of hope…

* * *

The next day, when Praxis had finally calmed down enough to understand a word anyone else was saying, Erol found himself heading towards the garage with the intent on convincing Praxis to place his efforts elsewhere from the running the city.

Despite the simple ingeniousness of the plan, Erol himself had to admit that it had probably not been wise to ask the Baron where he would _like_ to work. Praxis had promptly fallen silent following the question and had not spoken since. A closer look at his pouting face would suggest he had no clue. As miniscule as this fact may have been, Erol still feared that it held grave potential to escalate into a mad rampage around the city, and if _that _happened, then Praxis might rekindle his love for Baron-ing.

Erol climbed into the back of Praxis' Hellcat and clung onto the side for dear life as the Baron climbed into the front, threatening to capsize it. Erol took a moment to regain his composure in the backseat as it tilted back to the way it should've been as Praxis started up the engine.

"So have you decided yet, Sir?" Erol casually inquired, hoping to come across that it was 'no biggie' if Praxis hadn't chosen a career path yet.

"No," Praxis pouted from the front seat dully.

"Well…er…why not try thinking of something you enjoy? What are your interests, Sir?" Erol gently asked. Praxis paused, apparently thinking hard as his brow furrowed deeply (so much so, it threatened to loop around his eye if it curled any lower).

"Food," Praxis simply stated, after a moment, in his moping voice.

"Ah, of course," Erol said airily, a wince of dread stabbing into him. "Well um…what about your hobbies?" he instead probed, hopping to get a completely different response as Praxis working in a food outlet did not sit well with him.

Praxis took a moment to think again, his teeth gritting.

"Eating," Praxis grumbled.

"Um…any _hopes and ambitions_, Sir?" Erol chanced, trying to ignore a bead of sweat that was slowly making its way down the length of his face; he did not like where this was going at all.

"Globesity," Praxis mumbled.

"Well…where do you see yourself in the future?" Erol quaked, trying to sound composed though dread was now rattling his voice.

"McDonalds," Praxis grumbled once more, a hint of defiance lacing his tone.

"Oh, well um…maybe…perhaps…that's not such a…I mean, it's…well…how about instead of that we--"

But Erol went ignored as Praxis suddenly slammed his beefy foot on the accelerator, his flab jerking around violently, much like Erol in the back, as the Hellcat roared towards the slowly opening garage door. Within seconds they had barely scraped through the half-opened door of the garage, and were pelting through the city streets. People were screaming in shock and horror all around them, diving out of Praxis' path.

Erol didn't need to ask where it was they were going. He'd known ever since the word 'food' had been dropped that it would eventually lead to this. The journey to McDonalds had been assured ever since then. Shooting out into the Port, Praxis hung a hard right and shot off towards the entrance to the Yakkow paddocks, strangely driving right past a McDonalds' outlet. It seemed as though the Baron had a _particular_ McDonalds in mind that he wished to work at.

After a brief trip through the greenery of the paddock, the Hellcat rocketed into the Canals. Praxis swerved right, taking out an unmindful old lady with a trolley, seeming oblivious to the fresh set of screams and yells, and the splashes as people took refuge in the water. Erol found himself clinging so hard onto the side of the Hellcat that his knuckles were turning white, his palms getting cut into by the metallic rim in his hold. He wondered when this terror-ride would end, and was answered when Praxis suddenly slammed on the brakes, drifting around a corner; the momentum carrying the Hellcat towards a McDonalds Restaurant some forty meters away.

Re-steadying himself in the back, Erol noticed through the glass double-doors, that the inhabitants of the McDonalds had apparently seen the Baron coming. People inside were running and screaming, some frozen in shock, pointing in the Baron's direction as he relentlessly flew towards them. Erol tried to gesture with his arms for them to move, but they either hadn't seen him or were too scared to budge. Some people seemed to be running out the doors now, others clawing their way out of windows while the rest just cowered helplessly under tables. With only five meters left between the Hellcat and the brick wall of the Restaurant, Praxis slammed on the brakes and managed, somehow, to neatly and flawlessly park the vehicle.

Shaking from head to toe, Erol surveyed his surroundings, utterly astounded that the Baron had not crashed them into McDonalds, as he'd done other times before. The Hellcat shook violently, drawing Erol's attention to Praxis as he clambered out of the driver's seat. He stood on the pavement beside his vehicle for a moment, before humming brightly to himself, making a move towards the glass double-doors.

Breathing erratically, his eyes wide, Erol too attempted to clamber from the Hellcat, gracelessly losing his footing and face-planting into the concrete below. Grumbling painfully to himself, Erol managed to scramble to his feet and wobbling slightly, he followed the Baron.

By the time Erol had entered the restaurant, Praxis was already at the counter, demanding he be given a job. One look around the place suggested that there had obviously been a struggle moments before; Napkins, cups, wrappings and straws were strewn about the floor. Windows were wide open - some of them smashed, boot prints were even on a few of the walls near the windows where people had climbed out. If they had not been screwed into the floor, Erol was certain most of the tables and chairs would be overturned. A few terrified customers remained about the place, cowering underneath tables or behind plants, one or two were even desperate enough that they were hiding in the rubbish disposal box, their fearful eyes staring out at Erol as though looking for reassurance.

Bar the fearful looking youths trying to contend with the Baron behind the counter and in the kitchen, there remained - Erol realized - one customer who was still seated at their table, eating as though nothing was wrong. One look at him would tell _anyone _why he wasn't bothered by a mere 'Baron invasion'.

Scowling in Erol's direction, hunched over his table like a mother protecting her young, and chewing a burger so aggressively with his mouth open that bits of food were falling out, was Kleiver. Erol glared back slightly, making his way over to the Baron. The boy trying to handle Praxis looked no older than 20, and had a look of utter terror on his face that only seemed to ease up ever so slightly when Erol came into view next to the Baron.

"Please Mr. Baron Sir, I'll…I'll give you all the food we've got…" the teen was saying, his voice wavering as he took a step back. Praxis slammed a large fist onto the counter in defiance, glaring the boy down.

"I _told _you! I demand to be recruited!" Praxis roared aggressively, showering the counter with spit. The teen cowered further away, glancing from Praxis to Erol and then to the double-doors behind them, as though sizing up his odds of escaping.

"I…I d-don't und-derstand…Sir," the teen whimpered feebly.

"What the Baron _means _to say," Erol butted in before Praxis could reply, "Is that he wishes to have a job here, to work."

The teen seemed to look even more fearful at these words, sweat evident on his face as he seemed to contemplate what life would be like working alongside the Baron. He swallowed with such strain that it looked as though he was trying to consume a tennis ball, before shakily pointing to a door near the bathrooms, labeled "Manager".

"You…you'll have to go s-see the Boss, S-Sir…" he quivered, recoiling further towards the kitchens behind him. Other young looking workers were watching, frozen in anticipation in the background, Erol noticed.

"Very well," Erol replied, trying to usher the Baron towards the direction the teen was still pointing in, but Praxis would not have it. He stood, fixated with something in the distance that no one else could apparently see, a determined look on his face.

"No," Praxis said boldly. "I will do this, _alone_…" and with that he turned and almost heroically marched off towards the door. Erol watched him as he headed towards the door, praying he would in fact go through the correct one and not end up in one of the bathrooms instead.

Sadly, the Baron _did _in fact make this mistake as he barged into the women's restroom. Screams erupted from inside, followed by a few ladies running out the door, before Praxis reemerged, chuckling foolishly at himself. He then made a move to another door, but found himself instead in the men's restroom. Men screamed from inside and ran out this time, just as dramatically as the women had before. Erol did a face-palm, sighing heavily, as Praxis came back out, chortling still with a look on his face that suggested even _he _couldn't believe he'd been so stupid.

Finally the Baron entered the correct door; the one labeled "Manager", and disappeared from view. Erol stayed where he was, watching the door apprehensively, wondering whether this had really been a good idea after all. Within a few minutes, he was really beginning to doubt it.

If he hadn't known better, he would've thought that a gorilla was wrestling a hippo in that very office. Bellows and roars were erupting from the small door, in amongst crashes and shatters. It seemed the manager had been foolish enough to turn down the Baron's "résumé". Either that or he'd panicked, resulting in a minute rampage.

After hearing what sounded like an elephant hollering, Erol watched as the door suddenly opened, and out stepped Praxis, dressed in a blue and yellow McDonalds uniform, accompanied by a cap that brandished a large golden "M" in its centre. Quirking an eyebrow, Erol began to wonder what had actually gone on in there, upon realizing that the manager, a stout, explosively chubby man with a big moustache like the Baron's, seemed unharmed, much like his office in the background. What on Earth had those noises been about then?

A realization finally dawned on Erol as he began remembering that he'd heard similar, unexplained noises one time last summer, when the Baron had disappeared into his room to change into his togs. Apparently the Baron turned into a walking record of "Mystical noises from the zoo" whenever he changed clothes excitedly.

"So…you got the job?" Erol hesitantly tried to affirm as the Baron waddled over to him, beaming happily.

"Of course," Praxis cheered. "This place is run by Uncle Phrank after all! And he could _never _turn down his favorite niece!"

Erol looked gingerly from Praxis to "Uncle Phrank", who was in the background waving happily, then back to Praxis, and then to the cowering youths who were looking as though the end of the world had just been proclaimed.

Several hours later, Praxis seemed rather comfortable at the outlet, even despite the fact that he was a horrible worker. Erol would be willing to bet money that Uncle Phrank would've been better off had he hired a drunken Metalhead for the job. Praxis scared the customers, terrified them without even trying. They just had to take one look at him inside the building and they'd run screaming back out. There were some that _did _hang around, convinced that the _real_ Baron _surely _wouldn't be working in such a place, and that he was probably up in the Palace, while this look alike of him was innocently working here.

The ones that did stay, however, generally got an inkling after a while that perhaps their little theory was wrong. The Baron was useless at taking their orders, commonly falling asleep midway through them. He failed to give them any change, usually gave them far too many napkins (probably based on his own messy eating), and on most occasions, ate their food on the way over to the table, if not while it was still being prepared in the kitchens. There was even one occurrence when he'd sat down with a family in one of the booths at the side of the room, nearly crushing a little girl in doing so. As the family tried to eat, the Baron picked at their temporarily neglected chips, nuggets and drinks, spitting menacingly when he accidentally ate a slice of apple from the little girl's Happy Meal. He'd glowered threateningly down at her for a moment, before using another nearby lady's milkshake to rinse his mouth, spitting the beverage on the ground upon realizing it was in fact not a milkshake, but a fruit smoothie.

After refusing to clean up the mess he'd created, Praxis hung around in line for a while, seemingly forgetting that he was working here now, not being a customer. Erol had to point this out to him six times (the Baron had looked around confused five times, as though he thought Erol was speaking to someone else) before Praxis finally realized and left the line, only to go behind the counter into the kitchens and eat directly from the deep-fat-fryer.

Sometime later, Praxis took to loitering around the main restaurant, pretending to mop the floor when in fact he was keeping a look out for vehicles going into the drive through. Whenever he did notice one, he'd abandon his mop at once and Erol was forced to watch fearfully as Praxis clambered into the back of the drive-through destined vehicle, occasionally clinging to the back of zoomers (though his feet still dragged along the ground), as they ordered food. He managed to get his own feast from the poor bedraggled owner of the vehicle, before casually strolling back into the restaurant, usually tainted with sauce and grease. Following these little 'expeditions', the Baron commonly ended up trying to stand in line again, causing much stress from Erol's part as he was forced to chauffer the Baron away again.

To make matters much worse, Kleiver, despite having finished nearly sixteen meals now, refused to leave. Apparently being _banished _from Haven City just wasn't enough to keep the large man away. He seemed to be getting entertainment out of watching the Baron terrorizing customers, and would laugh loudly and heartily whenever Praxis did so. It was for this reason, Erol presumed, that Kleiver had continued to order food, so it otherwise looked like he had any other reason to be there.

The teens behind the counter seemed to have realized this themselves, but all of them were too cowardly to wage war with the large Wastelander. It seemed the only thing they feared more was Praxis, so, after apparently concocting a plan in the kitchens, the teens directed the Baron to take Kleiver's seventeenth meal to him, in the hopes that they'd 'pick each other off'. Erol had to hand it to the kids - it did seem like a good idea, but he had a feeling it was destined to failure, one way or the other.

Waddling over to Kleiver's table, a tray full of food in his hands, Praxis looked rather gleeful, until he realized who he was serving. It appeared that the Baron had not even realized that Kleiver was there before now, and now that he knew, he appeared to feel scandalized, looking in all directions with a disgusted look in his eye. Erol got the impression he was looking for the culprit, someone to blame for the fact that he was now face to face with one of his nemesis.

"_Kleiver_…" Praxis hissed, his eye turning to a tiny slit.

"G'Day, _mate_," Kleiver sneered in a mocking tone.

"Nobody told me _you _were here," Praxis glowered, trying to sound casual though his tone still held a slight hint of anger.

"Been here a while, mate," Kleiver declared cheerily.

"Well," Praxis hummed, apparently trying to look sophisticated.

"Yeah," Kleiver simply said back, still looking happy.

"Good," Praxis hummed again.

"Dandy," Kleiver replied.

"Hm," Praxis retorted, sounding almost calm.

"Heh," Kleiver breathed.

Silence then befell the two for a moment and Erol, noticing that Praxis had not placed the tray on the table yet, began to dread what may be coming next. He took in a deep breath, watching Praxis warily from a distance, debating whether he should intervene or leave them to it.

After five minutes of Praxis staring Kleiver down, Erol began to consider that perhaps they weren't going to do anything to each other. He was, however, soon mistaken. It happened in a blur of cream and yellow. Kleiver, despite appearing to be the calmer one, had suddenly leapt from his booth, wrapping his arms around Praxis' waist; he bought him crashing down to the ground. The food he ordered flew all over the place, fries spilling all over the ground, his large Fanta exploding upon impact as it collided with the tiled floor.

Erol, as well as other now-screaming customers, watched in horror as the two large men grappled each other, rolling around on the ground, smooshing the food beneath them and spreading the Fanta around the place. Within moments their clothes were wet and sodden with orange liquid, oozing French fries sticking to them here and there. A short way into the "fight" Praxis came to a brilliant idea of trying to blind Kleiver with Fanta. He feebly began cupping the puddle around them and rubbing it in Kleiver's face, which in the long run only managed to infuriate the Wastelander more.

The panic in the restaurant, which had formerly been quite high, seemed to be dying down by now. Most people, including Erol, had realized that no punches, kicks or bites had been thrown since the battle began 5 minutes ago. The two of them only seemed to be intent on grabbing each other's flab and battling to be on top of the brawl. They kept rolling backwards and forwards, growling and grunting at each other. Most people went back to eating upon realizing there wasn't much danger afoot, though some still felt uneasy and thus abandoned their meals in favor of assured safety. Erol seemed to be the only one remotely interested in the fight now, watching it with a frown and wondering when it would end, hoping they would grow bored with it soon, or at least forget what they were doing. He knew the Baron could be capable of such a thing at least, though felt himself doubting whether Kleiver was that dim as well.

After several minutes of them rolling around on the floor, Kleiver and Praxis ascended back onto their feet, panting and partially relying on each other to achieve such a thing as standing up. One of them, Erol couldn't see which, pushed the other away and suddenly there were a few metres between them. They stood, hunched and panting, glaring at each other. Kleiver looked as though he was about to run and tackle Praxis once more, but before he'd even took a step towards the illustrious Baron, Praxis had called, from the depths of his stomach, his secret weapon.

A few people jumped as the huge belch erupted from Praxis' gullet. Kleiver, who suddenly appeared to be overcome with fear, yelped and ran off, trying to keep his head low as he fled through the double-doors and disappeared into the street. If only everyone else had been as agile. Erol, seeking comfort under a nearby booth table, watched in horror as the customers and workers of the McDonalds alike began to try and make a break for it, heading for the door as the entire building shook around them. Much like when the Baron had first arrived, hours earlier, the place was in chaos. People were trying to escape out the doors and windows, some were cowering under tables, and others struck with fear that could not force their legs to carry them to safety.

From his safe spot, Erol watched Praxis' determined face, heard the noise reverberating around him, saw the disco effect around the room as the overhanging lights swung violently about on their cables. He smelled the plaster and paint as the building began to crack and crumble and felt the pain as the ceiling suddenly caved in. Managing to retain consciousness through it all, and clawing his way out from underneath the rubble and his table, Erol surveyed the newly created wreckage where the restaurant once stood.

It was a wonder no one had died really. People were screaming and crying, nursing injuries or mourning their lost lunch. A few bystanders in the street were gathering around the ruins, wondering what had happened, while others ran screaming away from it, perhaps knowing it was somehow related to the Baron. Guards ambled over, trying to control the situation but immediately turned tail and ran when Praxis' name was mentioned by a young boy, who Erol recognized to be the one they'd encountered earlier behind the counter.

Wobbling a bit on his legs, Erol tried to clamber to a nearby bench, but he was abruptly grabbed from behind and dragged, protesting, backwards. He was thrown into Praxis' Hellcat, and from the sudden lurching around of the vehicle, Erol ascertained the Baron was climbing into the front seat. Without a backwards glance at the devastation he'd caused, Praxis sped off away from the scene towards the Slums.

Back in his vehicle and away from the wreckage, it seemed the Baron wasn't even aware of what had just happened, as if he'd completely forgotten all knowledge of it. Erol didn't dare bring it up, and instead dedicated all the fibers of his being praying that Praxis wasn't driving them to another McDonalds.

"Um…sir, where is it that you're taking us?" Erol chanced shakily from the back.

"To my next career…" Praxis gleefully declared.

"Um…that wouldn't happen to be…_McDonalds_ would it?" Erol asked, trying to steady himself better in his seat, though finding that his back ached too much.

"Nah, McDonalds wasn't really doing it for me, ya know?" Praxis casually replied. Erol breathed out a sigh of relief, though suddenly inhaled it back in as the Baron indicated left and steered them into a Burger King outlet.

It was going to be a very long day, Erol decided with a stab of dread piercing his stomach. The only thing keeping him from trying to make a break for it was the thought of Ashelin running the city instead of Praxis, and how good that would be for him and the rest of the city. Still, Erol couldn't help but wonder whether Ashelin was enjoying herself trying to get control over the place while the Baron was preoccupied…

* * *

Since Praxis had disappeared from the Palace earlier that day, Ashelin had achieved quite a bit. She'd managed to get toxic waste removed from the Industrial Section, repaired some of the buildings in the Slums, given the go-ahead for an old-folks home to be built near the Market place, and had even passed Torn's request for a restraining order over Jak. The city, as it had grown to learn of her rule, began to appreciate the good deeds she was committing about the place and felt very much at ease with her in charge. Smiling contently out over the city from the throne room, Ashelin felt as though nothing could go wrong.

The fool, she'd gotten far too comfortable. For somewhere, deep in the desert, their lay a King who had just been told by one of his faithful subjects, a lovely little slither of information.

"So Kleiver, according to your report," Damas began, "_Praxis _has given up his rule of Haven?"

"Yep, working in Maccas he was, bet that city will be easy as pie to take now," Kleiver replied sardonically.

"Well, what a lovely opportunity this will be…for me to _regain my footing_," Damas declared, smiling wickedly as a plot formed in his mind. "Prepare the Wastelanders! We attack after Miss BG."

* * *

Much to Erol's relief, Praxis' ambitions at Burger King did not stem very far. The manager, a crotchety old lady who looked as though she'd rather die than own the place, was none too happy about hiring the Baron, but 96 years of living in Haven had taught her she'd better play along with him. She started him off taking orders, but soon realized this wasn't giving her good business, thus the Baron was banished to mopping the floors. This went well for a while until Praxis was attracted back to the kitchens where he had a murderous feeding frenzy for 20 minutes, no one being able to pry him away until he accidentally ate a kitchen sponge, thinking it was a morsel of dessert. After having the Heimlich performed on him 8 times (he kept eating the sponge once it came out) Praxis was forced into the men's room where he scrubbed toilets idly. Whoever had declared _this _a good idea however, was an idiot, who'd obviously been asleep several minutes prior, for before long the Baron came barging out into the middle of the restaurant, a frantic look on his face as he pointed at his throat.

Once the offending toilet sponge was removed (conveniently landing in someone's sundae) Praxis had been sent into the Manager's office, where he was screamed at profusely for 10 minutes. After he ate all the complimentary candies on her desk, he was screamed at for another 15. Once released back outside to sweep around the entrance mat, word got out of what had happened to the McDonalds in the Canals, the one conveniently listed on Praxis' resumé. The old lady, fearing for her own restaurant, had somehow chased the Baron away whilst brandishing a manual eggbeater.

Back inside the Hellcat, Praxis' dreams of food serving seemed deflated and, much to Erol's surprise, he soon found himself in the parking lot of a Day Care building. Despite the initial worried looks on the faces of the ladies operating the Day Care, Praxis seemed rather good at this job…

* * *

Ashelin in the meantime, wasn't having a very good experience at all. Her feeling of pride and achievement had diminished since when she'd last been seen in this story. The reasoning behind this was, in fact, the arrival of Damas.

After having been sent numerous poorly written death threats and warnings from the Desert King, Ashelin had ascertained that Damas held the intention - while Praxis wasn't around - to overtake the city. Now ordinarily, Ashelin would have no problem with this, as technically Damas _should _have been in charge right now due to birth right. However, take the fact that Damas was nearly as bad as Praxis; times it by the fact that Jak would be in charge following his retirement, then divide it by Ashelin's sudden surge of power-hunger, and the situation cannot be pretty.

Much to Veger's alarm, Ashelin had decided to try and fight for the city, but to no avail. Somehow an entire army of Wastelanders had appeared in the Port (Ashelin had a hunch Jak had been 'renting out' his air-train pass again) and were spreading out about the city creating havoc. They were rampaging around, burning and breaking things, overturning vehicles, scaring old ladies and possibly worst of all, littering. The Guards, upon already being spooked by the Baron's destruction of McDonalds, seemed to be in hiding and weren't lifting a finger to help.

With nothing left to lose, Ashelin had forced Veger to accompany her and had gone out into the streets, searching for Damas – her intention: to do battle…

* * *

Even Erol was surprised at how well Praxis was handling the children. At first, the kids themselves seemed a little apprehensive of the large man, only really knowing him from the rambles of their parents and from his usual evening news appearance. Their worries soon vanished however, as Praxis, being rather childlike himself, fit right on in with their talk of toys, candy and kiddy pop. He was soon the centre of attention and all the little girls were queuing up so he could braid their hair for them. Playtime soon ended however, much to Praxis' surprise and he was forced to help settle the kiddies for their afternoon naps.

Erol watched in fascination as he set them up in a group on the ground and began reading to them from a 'pop up' story book. It seemed too good to be true, so within time, something came crashing down upon this little career as well. This time it was in the form of one of the ladies from before waddling into the room with a large plate of cookies. Praxis, upon smelling the scent of dough and chocolate mingled as one, abruptly stopped reading from the book; it slid from his hands as his eye became large, _hunting _for the plate. Screams echoed around the small room as Snow White's pop out head was conveniently bent right back and nearly torn off as the book landed. But Praxis cared not for the screams and crying, oh no, in one leap he was on his feet, charging at the plump, cookie-carrying lady.

She screamed a shrill scream that made the kids cry harder, and Erol watched in horror as Praxis began stuffing the biscuits into his mouth. He'd soon cleared the plate of anything remotely looking like a crumb and his eye shot madly about the place as though seeking out more.

Roaring like an injured dinosaur, the Baron raced out of the reading room, down the hall and Erol could hear, from his spot fixated near the kids, several other women screaming in horror, followed by the sound of plastic being torn open and cupboards being raided. Loud thumping a moment later, alerted Erol that the Baron was on the move, and thus he raced from the room, following the noise until his eyes met the bright light of the outside sun. Praxis was a few feet away, his arms in the air roaring.

"MOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAR!" Praxis bellowed, before making a mad dash for his Hellcat. Erol just managed to leap into the back seat when suddenly the Baron was off. They didn't drive very far, as the Baron had soon, apparently, found what he was searching for.

Zooming through the city in her Hellcat, Veger screaming for sanity at her side, Ashelin had one thing on her mind; the destruction of Damas…or to chase him off at least. The thrill of being in charge of the city had obviously got to Ashelin's head in the short time she'd held the job, for she, like her father before her, was raving angrily as she drove like a lunatic at ground level, screaming at the top of her lungs "This is MY city!", whenever she managed to take out a Wastelander that had been creating havoc.

All attempts at calming Ashelin from Veger's end had failed, and he could only watch her crazed expression with horror from the passenger side of the Hellcat, praying that Damas would just run off when he saw the state she was in. Swerving violently around a few corners and entering the industrial section, it seemed that Ashelin had finally spotted what she was looking for.

Damas, Kleiver and Sig could be seen driving in the Ramrod, looking like a pack of 'gangsta-homies', travelling towards their direction. Ashelin spotted them, bared her teeth, hunched herself over the dashboard and thwarted the ignition for all it was worth. Veger screamed at the sight of their opponents, and in his moment of being caught off guard, he was flung from the moving vehicle and landed painfully on the concrete below. From his spot on the ground he watched as Damas and his posse veered out of harm's way, looks of horror on their faces.

Ashelin in the meantime, upon missing her prey by mere inches, tried to swerve the Hellcat back around to swoop again but was travelling too fast to turn that far and thus she missed once more. Disregarding the fact that Damas and Ashelin were supposed to be allies to a certain degree, it appeared as though both of them were about to throw down as the two of them positioned their respective vehicles facing each other.

Damas, who had taken great offence to being nearly taken out by the Hellcat, revved his engine indignantly, much to the crows and 'w00ts' of his cronies. Ashelin, who hunched further over and began glaring at the trio, unexpectedly noticed something. There was a fourth member in the back, w00ting and celebrating with his comrades.

"JAK!" Ashelin suddenly shrieked, realizing who it was, "_What _are you doing?"

"Taking over Haven city!" Jak cheered back innocently, beaming as he gave thumbs up. Ashelin's head was now swimming with so much rage that she couldn't bring herself to pursue asking _why _Jak was doing such a thing when he was supposed to be on both sides of this "war" and there for, for moral value, uninvolved with it. Gritting her teeth harder and growling angrily, Ashelin moved in for another swoop…

* * *

Meanwhile, the cookie-crazed Baron clambered from his Hellcat, ignoring the bright lights of the Industrial Section around him as he charged into a nearby building, one that Erol did not recognize. Panting, the Commander raced in after him and soon found himself to be in some kind office, designed for translating things for people. Erol wondered what the point of such a place was in this day and age, though was drawn to more important things when he spotted the Baron, trying to peer into a room at the far wall.

Before Erol could race over and stop him, Praxis had slipped into the room and the door had locked behind him. Erol stared breathlessly at the closed door for a while, wondering what was going to happen, when suddenly he heard a familiar sequence start up.

Everyone else in the room turned their heads to face the direction of the front door, apparently believing the Circus was in town nearby. Some of them raced out excitedly to find it, but Erol stayed put. He knew better.

After a minute or two, Praxis suddenly burst through the door, dressed in professional looking clothes, quite a change from what he'd been wearing before then - his Burger King outfit.

"Um…why are you dressed like that?" Erol asked, quirking an eyebrow as he approached the Baron.

"I work here now!" Praxis declared, brushing away what looked like more cookie crumbs from his beard. Erol was taken aback by these words.

"You…you _work _here? Sir, you can't _work _here! You don't know any other languages you'll-"

Erol was silenced by a snobbish wave of the Baron's hand as he dropped his weight onto one hip.

"Commander, I _think _I know a little more about this job than you do. I'm well aware that I need to know another language, and, quite frankly, I know_ five_," Praxis declared, moving past Erol to sit at a nearby desk. Erol rounded on him, looking flabbergasted.

"You don't know _five_ other languages!" he protested, waving his arms around in front of the Baron.

"I do _so_," Praxis jeered, looking offended. "There's Couch Groove, Incoherent Gibberish, _Coherent _Gibberish, Vending Machine AND Burger and Fries," he smartly listed, ticking them off on his stout fingers.

Erol could not speak, could not think clearly; all he knew was that this was idiocy and he refused to believe a word of it. Sure he thought the Gibberish languages could've been plausible for the Baron to know, but the others…

"Excuse me Commander, but I'm kind busy now, so if you'll…you know," Praxis declared with a formal tone, indicating with his hand for Erol to move aside as an angry looking man stepped into the room and was directed towards the Baron. As soon as Erol had backed away and sat, limply in a chair, the angry looking man had reached the Baron's desk and the two of them, to Erol's surprise (or maybe not so) began yelling angry gibberish at each other, shaking hands as they did so. This yelling continued for quite a while before the man, seemingly pleased with his conversation, got up and left with a bundle of papers in his hands.

Satisfied, Praxis sat back in his chair and waited for his next 'client' to appear. He soon came in the form of a surfer-hippy, with long, unruly blonde hair, and a small goatee. Erol could have mistaken him for Jak, had he not been so tall. Erol watched, only half interested now as Praxis began to engage the man in all sorts of talk he couldn't decipher until the word Coke came up. Putting a bit more effort into listening, Erol discovered that the two of them seemed to just be listing junk food at each other backwards and forwards. They seemed to be getting really into it, enjoying each other's company before Praxis, whether by intention or not, scrunched up his face and uttered "Cherry Ripe" in a harsh tone. The surfer-hippy's expression fell immediately into a frown and then into a look of disgust as he sprang to his feet and waltzed from the room backwards, screaming something about "Burger Rings" that seemed to offend Praxis deeply. The Baron swooned, appearing passed out.

He only awoke five minutes later when a hefty man and his equally large wife came to sit at his desk. They beamed at him happily before engaging in conversation.

Praxis leaned towards them, a mystical look on his face as he said in a hushed kind of voice, "And then you take the burger, and put it with the fries." The couple seemed awed by this statement and remained riveted by the Baron's every word for the next 45 minutes before finally they too left, looking very astonished.

* * *

The battle between Ashelin's Hellcat and the Ramrod had lasted nearly an hour now. The Hellcat, by far, had come off the worst. Battered and dented, smoking from beneath, it looked to be on its last limbs. Ashelin seemed to have noticed this little fact, but in her current state she couldn't do much to help it. Sweaty faced, smelling like a gym during a Biggest Loser fad, and hosting a matted mess of frazzled hair, Ashelin knew there was no hope for her to chase Damas out, especially since his Ramrod appeared barely marred.

Pushing her aching foot down onto the accelerator once more, the Hellcat gave a whir of protest, making a loud banging noise that was followed by an explosion of black smog bursting out the back. Ashelin let out an almighty groan, slamming her throbbing head down onto the steering wheel and losing the rest of her hope for victory as her Hellcat began to go even slower, losing some of its hovering ability in the process.

She opened her eyes just in time to see the Ramrod roaring towards her again, Kleiver behind the wheel while Damas was wielding a trash can stabbed onto the end of his staff. The smelly tin cylinder was spilling garbage everywhere as the Desert King waved it around violently, attempting to take a chunk out of the Hellcat as the Ramrod passed it.

Ashelin, who had attempted to move out of harm's way at the last second, only managed to make Damas' attack more lethal as he struck the underside of the Hellcat instead of the side. A loud bang issued from below and Ashelin frantically tried to escape to safety. Damas would not have this, however, and ordered Kleiver to chase her. But Kleiver, who was busy trying to avoid breathing in a particularly deadly looking patch of smog from the Hellcat, could not do such a thing as successfully as Damas had obviously envisioned, for in the next moment Damas was standing, legs spread over Kleiver, steering the Ramrod instead.

With Damas' backside waving around mere inches from his face, Kleiver let out noises of fervent discomfort, panicking as he tried to lean as far back in his seat as possible. Ashelin found it easier to at least dodge Damas and the Ramrod now, but it seemed that stationary objects about the place weren't as lucky as Damas clumsily crushed a bench under his tires, a street lamp meeting its fate moments later as the bin-staff collided with it.

* * *

Praxis, believe it or not, had been fired. It had happened in a blur really; Erol had watched it with little interest, not really realizing the severity of it. A lady had come into the office, requesting that Praxis help her with 'Couch Groove' language. Praxis, in reply, had curtly told the woman that she was far too thin to learn such a language. Erol presumed this was like the equivalent of telling someone that they weren't smart enough to learn French, for suddenly the woman looked disgraced and left, screaming abuse about the business. Praxis had been chuffed out soon after, and now, after having wandered the streets for a while, he was sitting, sulking on the footpath, settled next to a red fire hydrant. His chin was in his hands as he glared at the ground. Erol had left some time ago to get some ice creams for the Baron to try and cheer him up.

Some kind of commotion was occurring in the distance, but Praxis, being too perturbed by his sudden string of rejections, could care less about it. Well, either that or he was too dumb to truly notice the screams and explosions, or the blurred figures fighting each other.

Right now, all he cared about was his lack of employment, and how he would have to return to boring old 'Baron-ing'.

* * *

Damas, either coming up with an ingenious plan, or doing it by mere accident, suddenly swung his staff with such force that the bin on the end flew off out its confines and went hurtling through the air. Ashelin ducked her head, narrowly missing the flying bin, though it collided instead with the bonnet of her Hellcat, which promptly issued another loud bang, followed by a wave of black gas. The bin ricocheted off after this, apparently colliding with something water related, a large spurt of the said liquid suddenly shot into the air in the distance to assure this.

Ashelin had little time to dwell on what more destruction this bin had caused though, as suddenly her Hellcat had swooned awfully close the ground, unable to lift itself higher than an inch from the street. Protruding parts of the Hellcat began to scrape along the pavement, sending sparks into the air as well as a sickening shrieking noise.

Veger, who was watching the mayhem from a distance while crumpled on the ground, lifted his head tenderly to watch Ashelin get chased around by the Ramrod. Trying hard to think of something that could get them all out of this mess, Veger's mind kept coming to the same sordid conclusion. There was only one _thing _that could save them now, and as he lifted his head higher, he caught a glimpse of it.

It the distance, looking majestic under the most beautiful miniature rainbow Veger had ever seen was _exactly _what they needed now. Arms shaking as he forced himself upwards onto his quivering legs, Veger felt as though he was running in slow motion as he approached the majesty that he sought.

* * *

Wondering where Erol had got to with those ice creams he'd promised, Praxis lifted his head and surveyed his surroundings with his single beady eye. Noticing someone running towards him, he was immediately let down when he realized that it wasn't his commander returning with treats. Instead it was quite the opposite.

"Baron, Sir!" Veger sobbed, scurrying over to Praxis. "Please, you must come quickly! Damas is trying to take your city!" he yelled, grabbing at Praxis' arm and trying to drag him to his feet. But Praxis refused to budge. He turned his head away from Veger dramatically.

"No, it's not my city anymore; I've given up Baron-ing, for good…" Praxis declared seriously, sounding almost intelligent. The blood drained from Veger's face in an instant and he began trying to pull Praxis up again.

"But Sir, it's _Damas_! Damas is trying to take the city over! You can't allow this to happen! As the Baron of this city you must stop him," Veger cried, giving up on trying to move Praxis and standing before him, pointing over his shoulder fearfully.

"No," Praxis pouted, "I left Baron-ing to find a _new _job." Suddenly, when all hope seemed lost, Veger thought of a clever plan.

"So, uh…did you _find _another job?" he asked slyly, trying to appear as though he was only mildly interested.

"No," Praxis mumbled, still pouting.

"Well uh…I hear there's a new opening for a certain job but…no, you wouldn't be interested…" Veger sighed vividly. There was a silence that followed this, which made Veger worry that his plan had not worked.

"Wha...what is it?" Praxis meekly asked just when Veger was about to crack again.

"Oh...uh...it's quite simple really, it's called um..._Rampage Artist_, and what you do...is...um...run around yelling incoherencies and um...destroying things, you get paid more if you high-jack vehicles and...scare people...you know...create _panic_," Veger struggled, doing the shifty eye quite a lot. "And it uh...it _pays _in cheeseburgers! BUT—you have to start over there!" he hastily added, pointing in the direction he had just come from as a look of awe came over Praxis' face, as though he thought this job was too good to be true. A small smile came across the Baron's features, before he heroically stood up, determination now splaying over his face as he took a few steps forwards.

Taking in a deep breath and sticking his large gut outwards, Praxis bellowed the one word Veger was hoping he would.

"PAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARTY!" Praxis roared, before charging off in the direction Veger had pointed in.

* * *

Damas thought everything was going swell. It was dandy as dandy could be. He'd nearly chased Ashelin off, and once he'd done so it would be easy sailing trying to take over the city. Victory was in his grasp, vengeance was in his heart, glory was in his bones and...a violently huge, screaming man was in his sights. Oh dear...

The Ramrod had no time to swerve out of the way as Praxis came bounding towards it, hitting it head on and, with what looked like minimal effort, grabbing it round the front and lifting it off the ground. Kleiver, who was still trying to stay away from Damas' backside, slammed on the gas out of fear and Praxis was forced to release the vehicle from his hold.

Apparently done with the Ramrod for a moment, Praxis instead set to work harassing other things about the place, screaming gibberish at a lady passing by with a pram (causing her to leave the pram and run away shrieking), before doing a body slam onto a nearby bench, shattering it into shards of wood under his weight. He then started trying to grab at a passing zoomer, the driver howling with fear as he tried to go faster.

Damas, Kleiver, Sig and Jak all began to make fearful sounding whimpers as Damas scampered out of the driver's seat, leaving Kleiver to try and drive them out of harm's way. The sudden movement of the vehicle, however, only managed to attract Praxis' attention back onto the group in the Ramrod and he came stamping over, crazily asking 'what are you doing?' in the process.

Ashelin watched on from a short distance away with part horror, part respect as her father advanced on the Ramrod, screaming bizarrely and waving his arms around as spit rained from his mouth every now and then. The four men in the Ramrod all let out girly screams of terror, soon deciding to 'bail' as Praxis got a hold of the vehicle's bulbar, preventing them from escaping. Jak, Sig, Damas and Kleiver all dashed off in separate directions, but Praxis didn't bother trying to chase any of them.

Instead Praxis climbed into the now empty Ramrod and began driving it around all over the place, chasing people and reaching above him to try and grab at passing zoomers. Torn, who was unfortunate enough to be riding on a beat-up old zoomer in the vicinity soon found the Baron tailing him angrily. Ashelin wasn't sure what happened to Torn as the two of them disappeared around a corner, but his cries and a few explosions could be heard a moment later and when the Baron came back into Ashelin's sights, he was brandishing Torn's now charred zoomer threateningly at other drivers and pedestrians.

Roughly an hour later, when the sun had nearly gone down, Praxis had managed to chase out all the Wastelanders, but despite this, he was still going on his crazy rampage. Ironic considering he'd probably caused more damage to the city alone in an hour than what Damas' army could've done together in three days. Ashelin had given up watching the destruction and had driven her shaky Hellcat home. Well, actually Veger had to practically push it home for her while she steered it, as it seemed the Hellcat could no longer hover and move forwards at the same time, it could only do one or the other. The head of Council was looking pale skinned, queasy, and dirtied with soot here and there by the time they'd reached the Palace, and promptly passed out once Ashelin had 'parked' her Hellcat. He was left in the garage to fester for a while.

Erol had returned to the place he'd left the Baron a while ago with six heavy ice cream cones in his hands, but was confused to find no Praxis. Upon realizing the rampage that was taking place a street away, Erol had sighed heavily, defeated, and had returned to the Palace to mope about his failure.

Praxis stayed out long into the night on his rampage. At one point his self-induced rage had diminished, but on the way home he drove to his favourite McDonalds in the Canals to order some food but found it in shambles. His dearest Uncle Phrank had come over and told him cluelessly that a large, stupid, gorilla based man had destroyed his restaurant earlier that day, and thus the Baron's temper had risen again and another rampage took place across the city.

When the Baron finally returned home well after his bedtime (7:30pm), he was met with the weary faces of Erol, Ashelin and Veger, and as he passed them on his way to the elevator he simply said with a large smile on his face:

"This Rampage Artist job is the best, I'm sure glad I gave up Baron-ing for this!"

And, though none of them would hurry to admit it out loud anytime soon, Erol, Ashelin and Veger were all glad too – even if it _did _mean they now had to start rewarding the Baron with cheeseburgers for his rampages...

* * *

**Bijoux: Hope everyone enjoyed reading that, I know I had fun writing it. Just as a side note there is a line in this story that says "Erol presumed this was like the equivalent of telling someone that they weren't smart enough to learn French", just thought I'd point out that this isn't meant to be an insult to the French language or anyone who learns it (as it could be taken as such when I think about it). I just like to be specific with my examples and hey, I'm no where near smart enough to learn French so there we go ^^; Also to anyone wishing to know what "Globesity" is, remember, Google is your friend ;)**

**You know, I can't help but wonder whether anyone who read this will ever be able to go into a McDonalds or Burger King resturaunt with a straight face ever again...**

**Reviews are very much welcome and appreciated. Thanks for reading :D**

**Stay tuned for a movie length Palace Stories, coming to a Fanfiction near you ;)**


	38. Through Belch And Space PT1

**Bijoux: Finally I'm uploading the "Movie Length" Palace Story. It'll span over 4 chapters simply because it was too large to have as a single chapter. Special thanks to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter (sorry we haven't got round to thanking you personally), and a big thanks to everyone who's still reading this. Hope you all enjoy this next episode :)**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners. **

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**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**Through Belch and Space**

**Part One**

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Dares, as they were called, usually amounted to nothing more than a mere opening, a _portal _into a realm of trouble. They came in all forms, levels and sizes and in that aspect; _anyone _could end up stumbling into one without even knowing. It was on one normal, sunny day where a certain loveable Baron did just that.

It was upon this day that Praxis, despite having a keen disliking for Damas, decided he wanted to go on a solo visit to Spargus. Trouble, quite frankly, had resulted. Damas, in his Kingly manner, had told Praxis quite boorishly that there was no way he could drink a can of 'pop' and eat a whole pack of 'Mentos' at the same time. Something – to Damas' shallow knowledge – which any _real _leader could do without an ounce of fear in their veins (or stomachs).

Oh Damas, when will you learn to stop feeding Praxis these stories? You know they get his Baron Pride raging.

Doubtless, the Baron had attempted such a feat as pop plus Mentos, and much to Damas' surprise, nothing happened. There was no discomfort, no pain, no burning, no vomiting, no explosive diarrhoea, no impulsive buying of Dora the Explorer merchandise; the Baron had not even belched. A challenge had been set, and Damas, as he peered at Praxis' bored face, could not top it.

Thus, he had spent the last few days hiding away in his throne room, trying ever so hard to perform the same glorious accomplishment that Praxis had done. To no avail, he just couldn't sit through the deed without any expression crossing his face, something that Praxis had easily achieved.

"Why? Why didn't he suffer?" Damas bellowed, a broken man on his knees. He just couldn't understand how Praxis had endured something so horrendous without even _moving_, without even _breathing_.

What Damas didn't understand was that despite appearing unfazed, the Baron was rather literally, a ticking time bomb. Veger, as usual, was the first to pick up on this.

"Erol, Ashelin!" the Head of Council cried frantically, rushing into the lounge where Erol and Ashelin were relaxing (typical of most Palace Story openings these days).

"What is it _now_?" Ashelin groaned, not bothering to put her magazine down. Erol peered lazily over his paper, but otherwise seemed uncaring to Veger's presence.

"It…it's the Baron! He…he hasn't…" Veger stuttered, struggling with all his will power to remember to breathe properly, not wanting to hyperventilate.

"What?" Ashelin sighed, rolling her eyes.

"For days he hasn't…_belched_!" Veger hissed, his voice low and trembling, the look on his face possibly signalling the End of the World.

Silence befell the room for a moment, until suddenly Erol and Ashelin broke into uncontrollable laughter. The paper and magazine were suddenly discarded as they struggled to control themselves, gripping their sides and rolling about in their seats.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Erol managed through his laughter.

"You…you _actually _keep _track_?" Ashelin added, staring at Veger with amusement.

"Ye…yes! I'll have you know that the Baron's daily belch output is _usually _24 times a day! He has done _none _since Monday! It…it's _FRIDAY_!" Veger protested, panicking and sweating as his eyes became wider. He pointed accusingly at a nearby calendar on the wall, staring back at the two on the couch fearfully.

Erol and Ashelin only laughed harder.

"THIS IS _SERIOUS_! If he doesn't release one soon it…it could destroy us _ALL_!" Veger cried defensively. He still couldn't get through to them so, in a huff, he stormed from the room with a loud growl.

Deciding this was a big problem, Veger set off to the Palace basement where he remained, laying in wait for several short hours. Yes, that was all it took for his _prophecy of doom _to come true.

And it happened quite conveniently, when Praxis was up in his bedroom, his head out the window as he screamed abuse at some Guards in the street below. It was midway through this daily "Baron Morning rant" – scheduled for 3 pm – where something peculiar happened. Praxis…belched. Well…yeah, not very strange actually; that happened _every time _during the "morning" rant, but it was not common that the belch in itself, from so high up, could actually cause the ground below to rumble and break.

People in the city were running around screaming about the Precursors' Final Judgement as buildings shook around them, a great crack forming in the ground. Praxis in the meantime was 'giving birth' to a belch like no other.

His face, uncaring as usual, was acting as the gateway to this great rumbling, so epic in every way. Birds, zoomers and planes were falling from the sky, a small tsunami appeared in the Port, Haven Forest somehow caught fire, all the stalls in the Market blew to pieces, the Sewers collapsed in on themselves, the Weapons Factory exploded, Samos' beard shrivelled up, a fierce sandstorm erupted in the desert, all the screws in Krew's chair shot out of their sockets, several Metal Head armies died instantly, all of Kleiver's vehicles spontaneously combusted, and, possibly most horrendous of all, Torn's glorious dreadlocks disbanded and somehow turned into glistening, flowing locks.

This belch went on for what seemed like an eternity, and by the time the Baron had finished, there was this big, gaping…_thing_ floating in the sky.

Erol and Ashelin, who had dived under the lounge room coffee table for safety, slowly clambered out.

"What…what _was _that?" Ashelin asked, worry evident on her features.

"I…I don't know…" Erol uttered, making his way over to a window shakily, "An…earthquake maybe?"

"I don't think so…it didn't have the same feel to it. A tornado?" Ashelin stammered.

"More like a _comet _collided with the planet…" Erol chided sarcastically. Reaching the window, he looked out at the damage in the streets below. The once glorious city streets below the Palace suddenly looked like the Slums. Erol contemplated for a moment that perhaps someone had picked up the Palace and moved it to the Slums. He grimaced, not wanting to imagine life next to door to the dream-team Jak, Torn, Samos and Daxter.

He shuddered, barely noticing Ashelin suddenly standing next to him.

"Hey…what's that?" she abruptly asked, pointing up to the sky. Erol looked up and noticed something which made his blood stop. It was…a tear? A tear in the sky? How had that happened?

"This is turning out to be rather cryptic now, isn't it?" Erol mumbled, not able to take his eyes off the giant gash in the sky. They were just contemplating on what could've caused such a thing, when suddenly, maniacal - though strangely satisfied - laughter filled the room from behind.

"Ha…ha, ha, ha! You, you fools _laughed _when I warned you of the impending danger! But look now…_look _what your _belchless Baron _has done to the city! TO THE SKY! Doom, doom!" Veger cackled, pointing accusingly at Erol and Ashelin as he glared at them menacingly.

"Wait…_Praxis _did this? He made _that_?" Erol asked, gesturing to the gaping hole while he stared questioningly at Veger. The Head of Council merely sniggered as he nodded.

"That…I imagine, is the opening to a new dimension. Those _fools_ on the other side; they have _no _idea what trouble befalls them!" Veger laughed, briskly making his way to the window.

"I see… You know, you seem pretty uh…_together_, in comparison to how you're usually portrayed in these hell-forsaken stories…" Erol uttered, changing the subject.

"Give him five minutes…" Ashelin whispered calmly, grabbing Erol's arm.

And, as five minutes rolled by, the usual 'Palace Story' Veger came out in the form of him sitting on the couch, crying and hunched over a box of tissues as all his past troubles came out.

His first day of kindergarten, getting pushed in the mud in first grade, wetting himself in high school, getting attacked by grannies on his grad night, the fact that his father never hugged him, his mother labelled his underwear with tomato sauce to save money, his cat got run over by Praxis' predecessor, his grandmother beat him at Little Athletics when he was five, he couldn't get a girlfriend, children threw things at him, his paper work was never ending and finally, he recalled the day he was hired by Praxis.

Ashelin and Erol, deciding that they really didn't care by about halfway through the above paragraph, had left in search of Vin. Perhaps _he_ knew what that thing in the sky was.

And, after kidnapping the terrified Vin, tying him up and forcing him to stare fearfully up at the hole for a few minutes, they finally learnt what it was. It _was_ a portal, and by the sounds of things, it probably came out on the other side of the world. Vin expressed that it was unsafe for anyone to go through it, and that if one that size was left un-stabilized, it would eventually turn into a black hole and destroy everything that it could vacuum in.

Much to his panic and in spite of throwing a big girly scream-fest about it, Vin was hired for the job. Several days later, the giant hole was gone from the sky, and, newly-compressed into a big Precursor ring, was resituated in the Yakkow Paddocks closest to the Port. No one dared go near it.

Praxis on the other hand was curious about it. What was it? Where did it lead? Who lived there? How long had they lived there? Would they implode someday if they crossed onto the Haven side? Did they have more McDonalds through there than what he had here? Did Damas know about it? Was Damas on his way over to visit _their_ McDonalds? What if there were no McDonalds left for him, the Baron? Why was he here asking all these question while Damas was on his way? Why didn't he just send someone in by force? Who should he pick? Where was his Dream-Team? Why had he targeted the one that had screamed and run away? Why had he chased him? Why had he bought him to the big portal by his neck? Why did Veger's neck feel like sand paper?

"Baron Sir, please no! Can't you send Erol or Ashelin? At least _they're _built for combat!" Veger protested, kicking around feebly as he was brought to the large portal. Praxis chuckled lightly in response.

"Oh Veger, you and your stories!" Praxis merely said before, unceremoniously, he threw the poor, frail man into the portal. Veger let out one more pitiful scream, kicking and thrashing as he flew through the air, and that was the last they heard or saw of him for three months…

* * *

Dinner at the Palace was really just a game of chance, time and skill. The rules were simple: Eat yours before the Baron did it for you. Oh, and you had 30 seconds.

Tonight, like many before it, Erol was scoffing as much food as he could, barely even having time to swallow one mouthful when he lost this particular game for the 90th time in a row. The reason for him constantly losing had become obvious weeks earlier.

They were down a number. One less plate for Praxis to eye up which ordinarily would've bought them all an invaluable extra few seconds to eat more food. Sighing in defeat, Erol sent Ashelin a sorrowful look as her full plate was soon swiped from her. They both stared remorsefully at Veger's empty seat. It seemed, for more reasons than one, they needed him around. For their own benefit really, but still…

"So um…Lord Baron, Sir…_when _did you say Veger was coming home?" Erol asked, Praxis' head suddenly snapping upwards as he ceased his gorging on Ashelin's dinner. He stared at Erol with his single eye, wide and blank.

"Who…?" the Baron asked after a short while, still staring at Erol with the same look as before.

"Veger…" Erol repeated.

"_Who_…?" Praxis asked once more, his face looking confused as he sat upright.

"_Veger_," Erol responded, staring at the Baron questioningly.

Praxis sat motionless after that, still looking confused as he pondered on the name.

"Your Head of Council?"

Still nothing.

"You know…tall, balding, snooty…"

No way.

"You sent him into that portal a while back?"

Nope.

"Uh…he did your daily B.O check every morning?"

Fat chance.

"He makes that fudge-chocolate mud-cake, with the ice-cream centre?"

Click.

"Oooh, you mean _Veger_!" Praxis chortled, suddenly staring off dreamily. "Whatever happened to that guy?"

"You _threw him _into that mysterious portal," Ashelin blurted, looking annoyed.

"I threw him in the what now?" Praxis turned to her, looking blank again.

"The portal you made by belching. You know…it happened a few months ago? Vin was forced to collaborate it and make it stable? You put it in the Yakkow Paddocks? You became paranoid Damas was going in there to steal McDonalds so you sent Veger in as a guinea pig to see if it was safe…?" Erol cautiously explained, trying to find a glimmer of understanding on the Baron's vacant face.

"I'm sorry…_who _are we talking about?" Praxis calmly asked, turning his confused stare back onto Ashelin.

"VEGER!" she yelled at him, "He's somewhere in that portal, probably lost and you-"

"HE'S TRYING TO ESCAPE MY _BARONNY_? That traitor!" Praxis suddenly roared out of nowhere, halting Erol and Ashelin in their protests. He slammed his fist into the wooden table, a determined look coming across his face.

"Uh…I think you've got the wrong-" Erol began, only to be droned out when the Baron started shouting and raving. He stood up violently from his throne at the end of the dining table, raging on about traitors as he grabbed the edge of the table and overturned it, just as Erol and Ashelin leapt out the way.

The large Baron then turned on his heel, still roaring abuse as he exited down the hallway, his arms waving about everywhere for more emphasis. Erol and Ashelin stared after him looking clueless, wondering what they had said wrong.

Only one thing was certain in the minutes to come; whatever it was they'd done to drive the Baron away, they were grateful for it. For Praxis, believing he'd been betrayed, had stormed down to the portal and had clambered through it, giving the city some short reprieve from his constant rampages.

* * *

When Praxis resurfaced on the other side of the portal, it became apparent that A) he'd forgotten why he was there, and B) people were staring at him.

"Where did he come from?"

"The hole?"

"Look at all that metal on his head!"

"He looks so menacing!"

"His breath is repulsive!"

"Is that a McDonalds' wrapper sticking out of his trousers?"

Yes, a nice collection of civilians had gathered around him, wondering where on Earth this strange man had come from, and what he wanted. They were prodding him with things, surprised that he was just standing still, not speaking, and looking plain and oblivious. They must've thought they were pretty big, poking him in the head with brooms and sticks, trying to figure out his deal, but a few in the crowd had made a very grave mistake.

Those idiots, they'd panicked.

And, as Praxis absorbed their juicy, succulent _panic_, a change occurred in him. Oh dear, they were in for it now.

"This is _MY _city!" Praxis boomed, suddenly becoming animated, causing the civilians around him to drop their 'prodders' and jump back a few feet, scared. This new fear they began to feel only fed the Baron more, sending him into one of his infamous frenzies.

Roaring in defiance, Praxis flung his arms into the air; a few of the civilians decided it was high time they ran for it, and fled down the street screaming. It took a moment for Praxis to feed off their terror, chasing after them subconsciously to get more of the delicious emotion.

The next half hour was full of screams, explosions, the sound of trashcans falling over and incoherent ranting. Praxis by this stage, without thinking, had sought out one of the stronger sources of _panic _and was currently chasing it through the neatly paved city.

The little girl could only squeal in terror, clutching her Winnie the Pooh teddy tightly as the beefy Baron chased her. He was hunched over slightly, arms outstretched toward the girl while he screamed gibberish at her manically. The little girl endured about 10 minutes of this treatment before she made the mistake (or maybe not) of running too close to what appeared to be a castle or palace. For sometime nothing happened, giving Praxis enough time to chase the girl some more, knocking a mail box into a vending machine that somehow created an explosion, charring the nearby palace wall.

While the girl felt utter terror over the occurrence, taking to cowering in a nearby corner, Praxis just continued to stomp towards her, raving more loudly. He was in arms reach of the girl, when suddenly a voice behind him hindered his rampage temporarily.

"You blithering oaf! What have you done to His Grace's City?"

The owner of the voice - he wasn't displaying any fear. There was no _panic_ for the dear Baron to feed off – ah, a challenge. You see, usually when Praxis went on a rampage, _everyone _in Haven panicked and thus fed his rage until he grew tired or subdued. He could pinpoint where every little ounce of _panic _was seeping from, so, in the rare occurrence that say Damas or Kleiver showed up during one of his rampages, WITHOUT secreting _panic_, Praxis would know. He could tell that they weren't scared. He grew paranoid that they, instead of being there to feed him, were there to steal his tasty _panic_. In wake of this, he would hunt them down, set on battling them, chasing them from his feeding frenzy. This man, the one behind him, he was _just _like those two. He had no _panic _to donate, and was instead just there to feed on the food everyone else had bought to the party. Much like the Baron whenever he broke into someone's birthday celebration.

"A challenge..." Praxis hissed sinisterly, his single eye narrowing to a tiny slit. Praxis turned around to face the owner of the voice, readying his rampage pose once more.

"Buildings on fire, statues and walls crumbling, cracked pavement, overturned bins, bushes mangled, screaming civilians, charred vending machines and- did you tip _beer _into His Grace's favourite water fountain? The Duke will be _most _displeased when he arrives home to see what you've done to his glorious city," the scrawny man sneered, glaring daggers at the large Baron.

Upon these words, the Baron did something rather unexpected. His eye grew larger and watery, his breathing hitched slightly as a hurt look came over his face.

"You...you've been _cheating _on me?" he accused in a squeaky, betrayed sounding voice. Rage flashed over his face a moment later. "Who's this DUKE? HUH? HUH?" the Baron roared, strutting towards the confused looking man with his hands on his hips defensively. Becoming within gut's reach of the small man, Praxis buffed him with his belly a few times.

"What _are _you talking about?" the man croaked whilst backing away, his face looking wary as he put his hands up in defence. He continued to draw back as Praxis came ever closer to him.

"Oh, oh I get it! You forgot about me while you were out here womanising with this...this Duke person!" Praxis yelled, continuing his advance towards the now cowering man.

The man was speechless; his face conveying his confusion as he struggled to remember ever going _womanising _with the Duke.

"Does _he _know how to look after you like _I _do? HUH? Does he know your favourite food? Your favourite chick flick? The way that you like people petting your bald head? Does _he _read your _personal _diary and raid through your _stash _like _I _DO? HUH?" Praxis boomed, hurt entering his voice as he continued to barge the smaller man with his gut.

"You...you read my _what_?" he uttered, soon backing blindly into a step, causing him to fall backwards, helpless on the ground.

"THAT'S IT!" Praxis screamed, "You don't even remember the beautiful _memories _we shared! YOU'RE COMING HOME!"

"But...I...I _am _home..." the man argued, "The Duke, he needs me to-" he was cut off when Praxis put his hands over his ears, screaming gibberish to block him out.

"I don't want to hear what _she _needs you for!" Praxis shouted, grabbing the small man's front without warning. He tried to drag him away, but the persistent little thing had latched onto a nearby pole; a pole that soon got pulled out of the ground as Praxis proved he was _far _more persistent in his efforts.

"No! Save me my Duke!" the man screamed, thrashing about and knocking over more bins and statues as Praxis began carrying him up the stairs.

"Would you _stop squirming_?" Praxis droned after a while, his voice more casual than it had been, erasing his previous feeling of hurt. "It's _really _hard to take you home when you're doing that."

The man only screamed louder in protest, crying out for the Duke to save him as he managed to break free of the Baron's hold, fleeing a little ways down the street before he was pulled back.

"Listen lady, I don't know _who _this Duke guy is, but he _obviously _doesn't return your affections..." Praxis casually sighed as though the past 5 minutes hadn't happened.

The scrawny man cried out in anguish once more, pelting things at Praxis such as pens, money and a receipt, though to no avail. Praxis just seemed oblivious as he carried his victim, fireman style over his shoulder, up the stairs towards the portal.

Nonchalantly he sent the man a strange look before whispering into his backside near his head, "Hey man, I think you might have a hole in your pocket or something. Your pocket trash keeps hitting me in the head..."

The man let out one last wail of defeat, hurt that none of the nearby civilians had lifted a finger to help him. Well, _that _was the last time he left his work to come see what _they _were screaming about.

Then again, perhaps it really _would _be the last time. As Praxis carried him into the portal, kicking and screaming, the man was fearful that he would never see his glorious home again, or his precious Duke.

* * *

Erol and Ashelin had been enjoying their brief reprieve from Praxis – though they were still vaguely worried where he'd got to – settling back down in the lounge room to watch some prime time TV.

Deep down they knew that the Baron would return. Either the place he'd gone to would not host any McDonalds' chains or the seats at said McDonalds there would not be custom built for his size. Yes, one of those two reasons would be why he returned. Praxis was just predictable that way.

Slouching further into his seat, Erol was just beginning to enjoy his peace and quiet when suddenly the door burst open and in rushed the one man they'd hoped they wouldn't see in a while. He came bounding in, looking excited as he flaunted around a skinny, important-looking man in his hands. Halting before the duo on the couch, blocking their vision of the TV, Praxis giggled happily at them.

"Look what _I _found! This _traitor _thought he could escape my Baronny. How wrong you _were_..." Praxis hissed, glaring at the man in his hand, holding him higher up to look into his eyes.

The small man uttered nothing but a tiny whimper of fear; Erol and Ashelin exchanged looks of dread as they realized what the Baron had done. The poor creature in his hold, undoubtedly had been mistaken for Veger and most likely he'd come from the other side of that troublesome portal.

Figuring there was no better thing to do other than nod and agree now, fix the problem later, Erol smiled weakly at the Baron, sending the man in his hold a cautious look.

"_Good job, Sir_!" he cheered, sounding fake as he glanced at Ashelin for backup.

"Oh...oh yes, father! You uh...sure showed him!" Ashelin chimed, sitting upright and clapping for extra emphasis on her praising. Praxis seemed overjoyed to be receiving such positive feedback, smiling dumbly at the two of them.

"Yeah, he sure thought he could run, but I dragged him back kicking and squealing!" the Baron added excitedly, waving the man in his hold around a few times. "Now I'm going to lock him in his room so he'll learn his lesson!"

And with that, Praxis began his journey down the hallway towards the sleeping area of the Palace. Erol and Ashelin sent the man in his hold a sympathetic look before he disappeared from view out the lounge room door.

"Do you think he found him on the other side of that portal?" Ashelin asked quietly, turning to face Erol.

"Probably; I don't know why else that man would appear so confused in the presence of the Baron. _Our _civilians would've grown used to his ways by now..." Erol sighed.

"How long do you think it'll take before father realises that he's not Veger?" Ashelin enquired, looking worried.

"Who knows? I'd give him a few weeks at best, if at all. Perhaps the _real _Veger will have to return before your father sees the error of his ways..." Erol scoffed, closing his eyes and massaging his temples with exasperation.

"Until then we'll have to make sure father doesn't do anything severe to that man. He looks prone to heart based attacks..." Ashelin muttered solemnly.

"I suppose so. You know...I don't know how Praxis saw the Veger in him..." Erol wondered aloud.

Confusion befell the room as Ashelin tried to come to a logical conclusion too.

"...I mean...if anything, he _does _look a little like the love child of Veger and Onin but...other than that..." Erol continued, oblivious to the disturbed shudder Ashelin gave off afterwards.

In the meantime, a certain Duke was just returning home when, much to his horror, he made a grave discovery.

"Where...where is my Chancellor?"

And _that_ was how a whole new episode of horror surfaced within the realm of Palace Stories...

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**Bijoux: Well that's all for now :) As we're stuck on a Dial-Up interent connection at the moment, it requires more effort/enthusiasm to actually do _anything _on the internet. Because of this, a new chapter will hopefully go up every week. However if there is a big show of interest for this chapter then I'll try and get the next one up sooner. Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear any feedback :)**


	39. Through Belch And Space PT2

**Bijoux: Here we are, part two of Through Belch and Space - a little later than intended, sorry :( Thanks to everyone who took the time to read the last chapter and special thanks to all who found time to review, it's greatly appreciated :D **

**Discalimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners.**

**And speaking of which: You'll find towards the end of this chapter that I've made references to a few...uh..."Pokemon" theme songs. If anyone would like to hear the original versions of these songs (the TV length versions) just type them into Youtube and HOPEFULLY that will give you what you need - I haven't managed to check yet... These songs are as follows: Gotta Catch 'Em All, Johto Journey and Pokemon Master Quest :)**

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Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated

**Through Belch and Space**

**Part Two**

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Ah yes, I bet those fools at the Brink thought they were safe, didn't they? Fools. Nobody is safe where the Baron is concerned. No matter where you lived, he'd find you _somehow_. Someday, heaven forbid, he may even find a way to claw himself into the _real _world. Try and sleep soundly in your precious beds _now_...

Our story resumes in the marvellous city of Aeropa where, after returning home, a certain Duke realised his Chancellor had chucked a runner. Shoving aside pangs of betrayal, a closer inspection at the city, however, would show the Duke that perhaps he'd instead been merely misplaced or kidnapped. He could only ascertain, based on the amount/severity of the damage, that some form of beastly ogre had come charging through here – perhaps an escaped elephant. He was wandering around his courtyard inspecting the damage, when he spotted something red near the steps leading down to the rest of the city.

"What is _that_?" he asked aloud, rushing over to it. Picking it up he recognised it to be an article of the Chancellor's clothing. Puzzled, the Duke inspected his surroundings closer, noticing the pole on his right had been toppled over as though something had been holding it for dear life as they were being pulled to their doom. Letting his eyes wander further along the trail of destruction leading down the stairs, the Duke saw something glinting a fair few metres away.

Approaching it, he realised it was money. Picking it up and fondling it in his fingers absent mindedly, he stared further down the street, continuing the trail of damage. He followed the path of collapsed buildings and cracked pavement until he found a little piece of paper surrounded by a few pens. Observing the paper closely, he soon learnt that it was a receipt for hair mousse, an 'old man' orientated brand of hair mousse; only the Chancellor would buy such a thing.

So, continuing along the path he wasn't surprised when he found a little leather-bound pocket diary sitting on the ground, mere inches away from a big gaping hole. Flicking through the small book, neat lettering assured the Duke's worries that sometime during his absence a _gorilla_ had stolen his beloved Chancellor...

Unsure of what to do and unwilling to go through the portal himself due to its clear instability, the Duke summoned some of his technicians to collaborate it. Perhaps one day, when he mustered enough enthusiasm, he would go through and retrieve his Chancellor from the boorish creature that had taken him.

But nobody should hold their breath with these things...

* * *

A day had passed in the Palace since Praxis had returned with the small man he believed was Veger. In the short time they'd known him, Erol and Ashelin had been able to ascertain that he was actually a Chancellor – made apparent during an argument he'd had with the Baron earlier that morning.

By the sounds of things he _had _come from the other side of that portal where he worked for a man named Duke Skyheed in the city of Aeropa. Erol decided it was probably for the best if they got the scrawny Chancellor back where he belonged soon, otherwise said Duke may come looking for him, and apparently he had a huge battleship. If that thing somehow squeezed through the portal, then the Duke would no doubt use it to declare war on Haven for holding one of his citizens hostage.

And even if that was not the case, even if he actually cared very little for the Chancellor, Erol would not risk it. The problem was that Praxis had rather securely locked him in Veger's room – by placing a vending machine in front of the door that is. He only ever moved it and opened the door to give him food and to pester him about learning his lesson. Of course, the Chancellor would only argue back and the Baron would just leave unfazed, chuckling that Veger had become 'sassy' in his time away.

It was early evening as the Baron waddled to Veger's room, a brown bag in his hands as he pushed the vending machine before the door out the way with his backside, letting himself in soon after.

"Oh Veger, I bought you your dinner!" the Baron chimed, walking into the room and closing the door behind him. The Chancellor peered up from his spot on Veger's bed with an annoyed look on his face. The intoxicating smell of greasy food hit his nostrils within seconds and he instantly gagged, clasping his hands over his lower face to try and block it out. His eyes became slightly wider, analysing the Baron, as he stood up, backing away.

"I don't care for greasy food..." the Chancellor stated in a snide tone, glowering at the paper bag in the Baron's hands, recognising that demonic, yellow 'M' anywhere. Praxis looked confused for a second, before his face became cheerful again.

"No no, it's good, see!" Praxis insisted, fishing a French fry out of the bag and waving it in front of the Chancellor's face for a few seconds, before he bought it to his own mouth, nibbling at it. He controlled himself enough to eat the whole chip at a nibbling pace, before looking back to the Chancellor expectantly. The smaller man peered back, unamused.

"See, it's good," Praxis repeated, plucking another chip from the bag and nibbling it away again. He then turned his attention back to the Chancellor who stared back at him still annoyed. They stared at each other for about a minute before the taste of those two chips and the smell of the food in the bag seemed to posses the Baron.

With no warning he suddenly tore into the bag of food, gorging on the large chips and Big Mac inside. The Baron ended up tearing the bag, chip holder and burger wrapper into shreds as he literally tore through the food.

Within seconds it was no more than a pile of greasy papers and cardboard on the ground at the Baron's feet. Seemingly unsatisfied, the Baron's wide eye gained a maniacal glint as he ferociously began sucking the remnants of grease from his hands, the Chancellor watching in horror as he licked them clean. Still unsatisfied, the Baron began roaring and raging about the small room, eliciting a girlish scream from the Chancellor. Apparently believing that there was more McDonalds hidden somewhere in the room, the Baron began stomping around, overturning Veger's desk, tearing the sheets off the bed, pulling things from cupboards, pushing over bookcases (with his backside), and standing on miscellaneous tubes of ointment which had been thrown to the floor from his cupboard rummaging, the cream spewing out of them and all over the once pristine carpet.

"MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAR!" the Baron roared upon realizing that his searching was in vain. Ignoring the mortified look he was getting from the Chancellor, the Baron stormed from the room, leaving the door wide open as he went stomping down the hallway.

Shaking in fear, the Chancellor stood fixated in his spot for what seemed like an eternity, before three strange people suddenly rushed into the room, slamming the door shut behind them.

"Are you certain father has gone?" the first one asked.

"Most positive, Ashelin. Your father had the _forbidden _craving you see. I doubt he will be showing his face here for sometime..." the second one replied, looking confident though his voice showed a hidden tinge of concern.

The third one - a scrawny, old man with a neat moustache, clad in white - just stood there, glaring at the Chancellor while the other two had this conversation. He did nothing but glower back, thinking this man was strangely familiar...

The younger man and woman argued back and forth for a while, apparently exchanging war stories about this 'Baron' returning earlier than expected in the past. It was only after they heard suspicious thumping in the distance did they snap out of it, hurrying to hush their voices as they turned to the Chancellor.

"You, would I be wrong to assume you're from that portal outside?" the orange haired man asked, his voice a whisper that shook with uncertainty.

"No, you would not. That..._creature _destroyed the Duke's city and kidnapped me..." the Chancellor grimaced, forcing his glare away from the old man before him, though he still felt that hateful stare boring into his skull.

"I knew it. Father wasn't in there long, but it sounds as though he caused quite a stir. Tell me, is this _Duke _prone to, uh, _hunting_?" the woman asked shakily, taking a step forward expectantly.

"Wild animals yes. People no. Though I'd believe this _Baron _of yours belongs in the first category rather than the latter..." the Chancellor hissed, remembering the fateful moment he'd first laid eyes on Praxis' large figure about to devour that young girl, as he had ascertained.

While the two youths began bickering again, the Chancellor turned back to the old man and noticed that instead of staring at him angrily, he now appeared happier. It was a maniacal, devilish happiness, usually the product of nightmares, but still, he seemed more accepting.

"Okay look, we're not going to get anywhere arguing like this, Ashelin," the man suddenly hissed, "The best thing we can do right now is get this gentleman home."

"But father will return soon. You heard that thumping! What if it's him? What if that stupid restaurant was _closed _or something?" the woman, Ashelin, retorted fearfully.

"Then he would most certainly be busy on one of his rampages right now. Don't worry, I'm certain we have plenty of time to get him out of the Palace..." the man shot back, waving his hand about in an unconcerned manner.

"But Erol, think about it! Father _doesn't need _to be in the _Palace _to realize we're stealing 'Veger'. He just has to see us in the city and that's _it_! We'd be better off setting him up, sending him far away and taking this guy back the moment Father is headed in the opposite direction!" Ashelin enthusiastically explained, watching as Erol's face suddenly fell from confidence to a look of understanding.

"I suppose...well, we try later then. So uh...what did you say your name was?" Erol asked, his voice strained with defeat.

"Ruskin..." the Chancellor mumbled, not looking at Erol as he was stuck trying to analyse the look he was receiving from the old man.

"Well at least now we'll know if anyone comes looking for you. Come on Erol, we'd best be off. All this talk of rampages has me worried..." and with that the two _youngins_ left, chattering worriedly as they disappeared down the hall.

Silence surrounded the room as Ruskin and the old man continued to stare at each other, one confused and the other sadistic.

"So, uh-" the Chancellor began, only to be cut off when finally the other man said something.

"I fancy you, I do," he declared, his voice slightly accented and raspy, "I'll go make you some dinner..." he added, pointing to a tall white hat on his grey-haired head. With that crazed look still on his face, he kept eye contact for only a moment before he slowly turned around and left the room.

The Chancellor could not have rushed to close the door faster once he was certain he was out of earshot.

* * *

Several days later, things had not improved. Erol and Ashelin had attempted numerous times to get the Baron out of the Palace, only to fail when a marathon of _The Worst Witch_ was conveniently on all weekend, and then for some odd reason Praxis locked himself in his room for an extra 4 days. Erol assumed it was because he was performing some kind of "black magic" in there that "Muggles" weren't allowed to know about.

Trying to ignore the sudden, unexplained change of fandom, and trying not to grimace whenever he was referred to as "Aunt Petunia", Erol just left Praxis to his own devices. He'd tried to sneak Ruskin out while Praxis was locked up in his room, but it was in vain as Praxis somehow knew whenever his vending machine was being touched.

He would promptly stick his head out his bedroom and angrily blubber "Stay away from her!" whenever someone as much as brushed against it in the hallway. It was an _entirely _different matter when someone was dumb enough to _purchase _something from _her_. Oh yes, that _really _got Praxis' goat. More so than when he discovered _Veger _was cheating on him.

This little roadblock had forced Erol and Ashelin to lie low once more and bide their time. The Baron only ever left his room completely when he was hungry or, quite similar, when he wanted McDonalds. Each day he would bring back an extra bag and try to persuade his prisoner into eating it.

With today being his first complete day away from his room, Praxis as usual had toddled off to Maccas and was on his way to Veger's room. Ruskin, upon hearing the loud footsteps coming towards him hurried to his feet, anticipating the sudden grinding of the vending machine being moved before the doorknob turned.

Praxis entered the room soon afterwards, panting and sweaty. He ushered Ruskinout the way before collapsing on the bed, springs moaning painfully as the bed drooped to skimp the ground.

"Wooh..." Praxis panted, wiping sweat from his face as he handed Ruskin the bag, "Here you go."

Hesitantly taking the bag to please the Baron and peering inside, the scrawny man came to realize that the bag was empty of any _food_. All that remained was some scrunched up packaging.

"Uh...there's no food here..." Ruskin uttered, not really upset about that fact. The others had not failed to bring him _real _food to eat in the past few days. Yes, how easily Praxis fell for the old "The Worst Witch is on" routine, _everyday_. It bought Erol or Ashelin enough time to move the blockade and slip into the room before the Baron came back, disappointed.

Praxis stared back at Ruskin with a blank look that slowly fell into a look of shame, fiddling with his fingers sheepishly as he looked away.

"I took the stairs...I got hungry on the way up..." Praxis admitted, looking at the floor.

"You...you didn't take the _stairs_. I _heard _the elevator gears struggling with something heavy moments before you came here..." Ruskin argued, knowing it was futile anyway.

"That's the sound the stairs make!" Praxis cried back defensively, staring at Ruskin with the same look a five-year-old would give their parent while arguing that _Yo Gabba Gabba's_ live musical performance was _worth _a 3 hour car ride.

Ruskin had no clue how Praxis expected him to believe such a thing. The only way the _stairs _would make such a noise was if they were of the escalator variety and, unless Praxis had somehow got even lazier whilst Ruskin had been locked up in this room and installed one, he was certain there had been no such escalator along the direct route to this room. Unsure of how exactly to backfire such a remark that was so obviously impossible, Ruskin merely kept his mouth shut and watched Praxis warily, being sure to keep a good distance in case Praxis suddenly acted on some strange impulse, as he had a habit of doing. After several minutes of awkward silence, the Baron either decided that playing-dead was the way to go to get out of such a tense environment (as he'd been known to do), or had _actually _died, _or_ he'd fallen asleep. Knowing that the second option was far too good to be true, Ruskin merely assumed this was just usual Baron behaviour. He was assured of this when a rumbling snore issued from the large man, followed by incoherent yells for someone named 'Kleiver' to stay away from his 'stash'.

Ruskin endured similar such 'Night Terror Screams' for the next three hours before Praxis finally woke up, chuckled embarrassingly to himself, then waddled from the room. Erol and Ashelin in the meantime had been devising a cunning plan to remove Praxis from the general vicinity for the day, whilst still knowing exactly where he'd be.

The ingenious plan they decided on had come to Ashelin in a dream, when she'd fallen asleep midway through one of Erol's Praxis-based rants. And what a plan it festered into; there was no way it could fail, but for it to work...they would need Torn.

"I'm not doing it."

"Oh come on, Torn!"

"No."

"Pull your weight! _You're _the one who's supposed to be an expert leader remover!"

"I. AIN'T. DOIN. IT!"

"Oh come _on_..."

"NO!"

And with this, Erol was dejected out of the Underground faster than he'd arrived. A scowl on his face and a slump in his walk, he moved over to Ashelin who was standing, waiting and looking expectantly, a few feet away.

"He said no..." Erol mumbled gravely. With this Ashelin took her hands off her hips and laughed sweetly, waving a hand about carelessly.

"Oh Erol, you silly thing, you _did it_ wrong. What Torn needs is a _woman's touch_," Ashelin chuckled, winking swiftly at Erol before delicately striding towards the large Underground door. Erol stared after her in partial disbelief for a moment, before moving closer to the closing door in order to eavesdrop.

What he heard wasn't coherent, but at first it sounded as though Ashelin was speaking in a light and cheery tone, Torn retorted in his usual flat grumble, Ashelin replied in a slightly deeper and faster paced voice, Torn's pitch grew louder, Ashelin barked something then laughed sarcastically, Torn began to yell, Ashelin began to yell, a gun cocked, a gunshot went off, Torn screamed, Ashelin began to rave with such a velocity that would make her father proud, Torn began to yell in protest, another gunshot, another scream, something that sounded like a belch, Torn whimpered something, a loud bang, a loud shatter, a loud crash, and finally, an explosion.

Torn emerged several seconds later, looking scared and sweaty, shuddering slightly as he stiffly walked and - probably most obvious in his appearance – he was charcoal black, his clothes fraying. He coughed once and a cloud of black, toxic looking smoke blew from his open mouth. Samos walked past, breathed in some of this smog and began writhing on the city floor, his head-log shrivelling and decomposing on the spot. Erol made note to not breathe this smog in as he promptly attempted to ignore Samos' screams for help.

"Now Torn, I suppose you're wondering _what _exactly we need you to do?" Ashelin asked, her tone sickly sweet once more. Torn stiffly turned to her, his eyes large and agitated.

"As I told you, we need Praxis removed from the Palace for a few hours. To do this, Ashelin has devised a cunning plan," Erol added, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket and handing it to the dishevelled Underground Leader. Torn took the paper with a shaky hand and glared down at it for a moment but said nothing.

"We need you to take that to every location specified on the map on the back and pay them in advance," Ashelin explained when she was sure Torn had registered what the paper was.

"Tell them to use that money to feed Baron Praxis WHEN he arrives sometime tomorrow," Erol added importantly. Torn looked up slowly, glaring from Erol to Ashelin.

"Fine, give me the money and I'll do it..." Torn growled in defeat.

An awkward silence fell upon the alley.

"Hmm...Yeah well...we were kind of hoping that..._you'd _be paying for it..." Erol nervously mumbled.

"It is your job to get rid of the Baron after all, besides _we _had to think of the idea," Ashelin declared confidently.

Torn's scowl somehow intensified and Erol felt nervous underneath it. He distracted himself by watching Samos claw his way towards the Underground door. When the door opened and Samos saw the destruction lying inside, he began to writhe and scream all over again, though perhaps that was more because a long stream of that deadly looking smog was now filing out of the open doorway.

"Why the heck do you need to take that Ruskin guy back anyway? He'll probably be a more competent Head of Council than Veger, so what's the point? Just keep him and let those guys at this _Brink_ have lousy Veger..." Torn spat viciously. Erol was surprised at the sudden emotion that overcame him...was he...angry at what Torn had suggested?

"_Veger _is a member of this family!" he yelled before he could stop himself. Suddenly nervous under the strange looks he was now receiving, Erol hurried to add, "Besides...if we don't have a wimpy, emotional-train-wreck like him around, how are we supposed to feel good about ourselves...?"

"True, true..." Torn pondered for a moment as a look of subtle realization came to his face, though it still seemed apparent that he still did not intend to help out.

"Let's put it this way, _Torn_," Ashelin began, dropping her weight onto one hip and crossing her arms, "If you _don't _manage to get this done, we'll be forced to tell Father that _you're_ hosting a Super-Mega-Awesome Spice Girls Sleepover Week."

This threat hit Torn like a charging bull. His eyes grew so wide that Ashelin thought they were about pop out of their sockets. His jaw hung so slow that it looked dislocated and his mouth twisted into the scariest frown Erol had ever seen. As if on cue, the once proud Underground Leader turned tail, ran for dear life towards the closest parked zoomer and flew off, reading the map vigorously as he went.

"Excellent, the plan is falling into place," Erol celebrated as Ashelin dusted off her hands in victory.

* * *

"Good news, Baron Sir!" Erol cheered as he entered the throne room early the next day. "Look at what _I've _found in the mail, for you!" he smiled broadly as he outstretched his hand, brandishing a brightly coloured slip of paper in his grasp.

Any other person could've easily pointed out the fake-ness in Erol's voice, but not Praxis. Excited and curious all at once, the large Baron perked up from slouching in his throne and almost timidly bounded down the tiny stairs to stand before Erol. Praxis approached still more cautiously, much like an animal hesitating to take food from a human; he tilted his head about trying to read the paper without actually taking it. Erol's wide smile faltered for a moment at this behaviour.

"It's a free-pass for a magical ad-" Erol began in his fake, cheery tone, but the word 'free' had been enough for Praxis, who had snatched the paper keenly from Erol's grip. His tiny eye flew in all directions as he read the paper, growing wide with every swerve.

"Oh. My. GOD!" Praxis boomed, his face hosting a look of shock. "This...it can't be happening. I...I must be asleep! For how I've _dreamed_ of such a thing for _so long_!" Praxis gasped, disbelief laden in his voice.

"It's authentic Sir, I made sure myself. You'd best get a move on! It expires come tomorrow!" Erol said warningly, waving an index finger about for extra effect.

Praxis began to heave and sweat, his face contorting with more and more awe with every shuddering gasp of air. He began to clutch at his chest desperately, and his loud gulps of air grew faster paced. Erol's smile fell once more; he had not taken into consideration what might happen if Praxis had a heart attack and perhaps _died _of excitement. The Commander was just trying to convince himself that Praxis was merely hyperventilating when suddenly the loud breaths stopped. Praxis was frozen in a crazed pose, still clutching his heart, his face as twisted and stretched as "The Scream's".

His blood running dry, Erol began to frantically wave his hand and click his fingers in front of Praxis. When this yielded no result, Erol warily picked up a conveniently nearby glass of water and threw the contents into Praxis' face. Praxis remained still for a moment longer before, with no warning, he sprung back to life. He took one more long breath then, at the top of his voice, he bellowed the single phrase he had dreamt of since his childhood days as a little girl:

"MCDONALDS CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWL!"

And off the Baron went, bounding towards the closest exit...

Several minutes later, Erol and Ashelin were sprinting through the city streets towards the Yakkow paddocks, Ruskin tailing behind them somewhere, gasping for breath and begging them to slow down. It was as though they two of them had suddenly become crazed and impulsive like that Praxis creature did. Ruskin shuddered at the thought of such a thing being contagious, wondering what his Duke would say if he accidentally infected the entire Brink with such a _disease_.

This nightmarish image plagued Ruskin until he finally reached the portal. He was given barely any time to rest, panting and clutching at his heart, as he was seized by both Erol and Ashelin and dragged rather carelessly through the portal.

"Is this it?" Ashelin asked from overhead when the three of them landed on solid ground.

"It has to be," Erol replied assertively. Ruskin propped himself up on his hands and knees, having landed face first on the ground rather majestically. He took a moment to survey his surroundings before it finally dawned on him that he was home, and, much like a rat hot on the trail of some delectable garbage, Ruskin scurried off. Erol and Ashelin had no choice but to follow him, hoping that he would somehow lead them to Veger...

* * *

Meanwhile back in Haven City, Praxis was just exiting his second McDonalds. Referring to his map to see where the next one lay, he seemed somehow oblivious to loud collective sigh that drifted, possibly in the wind, from the McDonalds behind him. Revving the engine of his hellcat, a glorious thought came over the Baron – music.

He chuckled gleefully to himself as he reached for the on switch for his CD player. Expecting to be suddenly invigorated by the words "Yo I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want", Praxis was a little surprised when it did not happen. Looking confused as a different song began instead, Praxis pushed the eject button with his beefy index finger and took the CD that was offered to him.

His beady eye surveyed the large black words scribbled on the CD: Special McDonalds Crawl Soundtrack Music. A look of glee replaced Praxis' forlorn expression. How thoughtful of Erol and Ashelin to make him a special CD for his outing. He pushed it back into the player merrily and reversed from the McDonalds parking lot.

A strangely familiar tune began to start up. It went for a few mere seconds before Torn's voice cut in: "I'm not doing this Erol", the sound of a gun clicking was Torn's reply. Rather hurriedly the Underground Leader did as he had apparently been commanded and began to sing. It was a rather scratchy, uneven, annoying sound, but you had to give him Kudos for trying...

'_I wanna be the __**fattest**__,__like no one ever was. To find them is my real test, to eat there is my cause. I will travel across the land, searching far and wide, each Mac-don-alds to understand, the __**power of my HIDE**__! Mac-don-alds, got eat there it's you and me; I know it's my destiny! Mac-don-alds! Oh, you're my best friend, in a world where you're my friend. Mac-don-alds, gotta eat there, aha menu! Our guttage will pull us through! You eat me and I'll eat you, __**MAC-DON-ALDS**__! Gotta eat em all, gotta em a~ll...'_

Pausing for a moment, Praxis wiped a stray tear from his eye at how beautiful the song was, seemingly blissfully unaware to the fact the background singers of the song kept saying things like 'Pokemon' and 'Gotta Catch Em All' instead of the _real _lyrics. Much to Praxis' glee another song began to start up, this one started by indecipherable grumbles of protest by Torn before he began singing again.

'_Everybody wants to eat at Maccas, everybody wants to show their skills, Baron Praxis wants to get there faster, make his way to the front of the grill. Each time you fry, gonna get just a little bit fatter. Each day you make, one more crack in the pavement! It's a McDonalds world we live in, it's a McDonalds way to eat, it's a Mac-don-alds place with a brand new fattitude! But you've still gotta eat em all, and refuse to pay the bill. Mac-don-alds Crawl, Mac-don-alds Crawl...MAC-DON-ALDS CRAWL!' _

The second track then melded into the third, also started by Torn swearing under his breath.

'_No time to question my food, I stick to the path that I chew. Me and my fries are gonna do it right; you'll never see us run away from a bite. To eat faster is my dream; all I've got to do is believe! I've got a chance to binge, I'm on my way to eateries, MAC-DON-ALDS, I could eat a family meal if I __**just believe**__! I'm on a Maccas Quest; I want the whole world to see how much I can eat. I'm gonna eat all the rest, coz all I've got to do is e~e~eat, MAC-DON-ALDS!'_

The rest of the tracks, despite it not bothering Praxis in the slightest, became rather bland and repetitive after that, so Bijoux stopped formulating them for the public eye to see and continued with something of larger importance...

Praxis by this stage was pulling into his third McDonalds. He had parked the hellcat, turned off the stereo and was clambering from the driver's seat rather awkwardly, as he always did. He waddled into this fresh McDonalds and that was where he remained for the next half hour or so, people being sure to steer clear of this particular restaurant when they saw the telltale hellcat parked outside it.

When Praxis finally did emerge, he was toddling majestically back to his hellcat. He climbed back in with a greater effort than usual and started up the engine once more. Driving along merrily, his special soundtrack booming out of the stereo once more, Praxis had little warning of what was about to happen. It came gurgling, overpowering, erupting.

Oh yes, he'd belched alright. And WHAT a belch. It shook the air and, as it had done earlier yet on a weaker level now, it tore a hole in the atmosphere and Praxis, without really noticing what he was doing, drove right smack-bang through it. And as though operating like an automatic supermarket door, the portal closed up following the Baron's leave.

But where Praxis would end up...only time would tell.

* * *

**Bijoux: Oh noes, it seems the dreaded Baron has left Haven. But where ever will he end up next? In Spargus? Or Kras? Maybe he'll come out in an entirely different universe altogether! Maybe...just maybe, he'll even come out in your kitchen tonight D: Now wouldn't that be horrific? You could call the Police but he'd probably just sit on them or something...perhaps Animal Control would be the better approach? **

**Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope everyone enjoyed :D I'll aim to have part three up this coming Monday. Reviews, suggestions and constructive criticism are always welcome :)**

**By the way, in case anyone is feeling a little lost, the new places/characters mentioned in this story are from "Jak and Daxter: The Lost Frontier". It occured to me that not everyone may have played that game just yet. If you haven't played it yet I highly recommend that you do :D**


	40. Through Belch And Space PT3

**Bijoux: I'm keeping my word and putting this up today :D Thanks to everyone who read the last part and special thanks to those who reviewed. A big glomp goes to GreyJedi for contributing our 300th review! Woohoo! Our next target...is 400 ;D**

**Micman60 - There won't be any theme song parody-ising in this chapter, however if you enjoyed it I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised in the coming future ;)**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog. Any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners.**

* * *

**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**Through Belch and Space**

**Part Three**

* * *

Captain Phoenix was a composed man. Tall and proud, he liked to stand on the bridge of his Phantom Blade and gaze out over the ocean. It was usually a swirling mass of delicate blue and green, beautiful to anyone who saw. Today however, it was sullied, scarred, by a dark figure grazing its surface. It attracted Phoenix's attention away from the beauty of the ocean and he was forced to watch the dark shape as it hovered about the place below.

Upon closer inspection, Phoenix discerned that the figure was in fact a man. A large man riding in some kind of hover-vehicle to be exact. Phoenix could not tell whether or not the man was in any form of distress, but past experiences had taught the leader of the Pirates that small vehicles such as that one should not be left to hover alone in such an open space. Brink Island, as where they were situated, hosted large cliffs all over the place and if the man were to come across a problem of some sort it would take great effort for him to find somewhere to land.

His generous nature kicking in, Phoenix commanded that the Phantom Blade be lowered and that the man be bought aboard the ship. With any luck, he thought, perhaps this man might prove a decent candidate to be a pirate...

Within a few minutes the strange man had been taken on board. From just one look at him, Phoenix could tell that he was a strange character. Half of his head seemed to be encased in metal, his large moustache had crumbs flecked through it and for some odd reason he kept gabbling on about someone named 'McDonalds' and how he was supposed to be 'crawling' to them.

The lower pirates moved aside as Phoenix began to stride closer to the strange man. When he came within a few feet of the man he stopped, noting that he looked a bit dangerous – something that did not mix well with his crazy ravings.

"Tell me Sir, who might you be?" Phoenix asked sternly, watching the man cautiously as he halted in his crazed protests. The man looked Phoenix up and down a few times with his beady eye, a pout coming over his face.

"Praxis..." he mumbled back almost defensively.

"Well Praxis, what are you doing out here in the Brink? Especially in such an...inferior vehicle?" Phoenix inquired, raising an eyebrow at this Praxis fellow.

"Driving..." Praxis mumbled once more.

"Yes...but why?" Phoenix commanded.

"Because..." Praxis muttered.

"I think somebody's already juiced this guy for information, Captain..." a crewmember whispered to Phoenix, staring down at Praxis with awe at his stubbornness in the face of questioning. Something about this crewmember's voice seemed to infuriate Praxis and he jumped up, glaring angrily at the one who had spoken, his eye full of malice. Several crewmembers drew their weapons as a precaution.

"Kleiver!" Praxis growled aggressively, taking a step towards the offending crew member. "Thought you'd shave off your luscious golden locks and follow me here did you? Thought you'd try and beat me to the end of the McDonalds crawl, huh? Well, we'll see!" Praxis barked, pointing a finger into the crewmember's chest.

"Klout...do you know this man?" Phoenix asked, turning to the man beside him. The one known as Klout shook his head and took a few spaces backwards to get away from Praxis' jabbing finger. Praxis stayed where he was but continued to glare.

"Well uh...look, Praxis, you can't go around driving such a small vehicle in a place like this. The engine won't be able to cope with such distances or height," Phoenix scolded, watching as Praxis fell into that pouting look again. "How about I make you a deal? If you help us out with some missions, I'll let you pilot one of these illustrious vehicles..." Phoenix declared, extending his arm out and drawing Praxis' attention to the contents of the ship's docking garage. Parked about the place were a nice variety of aircrafts. Most of them just looked the same from a distance but one of them, such a beautiful specimen towards the far wall, attracted Praxis' attention like nothing else had before – not even Femaxis' beauty compared to this.

"Oh...my...god...she's _beautiful_..." Praxis gasped, his mouth running dry. Some of the pirates were looking confused, trying to follow Praxis' line of sight to find out which ship he liked and whether or not it already belonged to one of them. "That one..." Praxis croaked, pointing shakily towards the back of the room, "I want that one".

Silence surrounded the large room following this; it was the sort of intense silence that could be broken by a mere pin falling to the ground. Everyone by this stage was trying to look in the same direction as Praxis, something that shouldn't have been hard to achieve considering his single eye and outstretched finger. After a few minutes, one lowly pirate seemed to figure out what Praxis was looking at.

"Uh...you don't mean that fridge, do you?" he asked, scratching his bright blue beard in confusion. Praxis cupped his hands together angelically and his beady eye began to water as he sniffed a few times.

"Isn't she so magnificent?" Praxis whimpered sweetly.

"Yeah...I _guess _so..." the blue bearded pirate shrugged.

"You...um...can't actually _drive _that Praxis. Why don't try this one-"

But Praxis did not care about this different vehicle Phoenix was trying to bring his attention towards. Oh no, he _knew _what he wanted, and he was going to get it.

"I'M THE BARON OF THIS CITY!" Praxis bellowed defensively, halting Phoenix midway through describing the 'special features' of one of the aircrafts - which evidently belonged to a scrawny pirate who was looking very nervous and trying to gesture with his hands for Phoenix to leave _his _aircraft out of this.

"You're...what, sorry?" Phoenix slowly asked as everyone else seemed to fall silent. "Did you say..._Baron_?" the Pirate Captain's mouth felt dry as all the blood seemed to drain from his face.

"Yes..." Praxis mumbled back in his pouting tone.

"Men...prepare that fridge for combat; tonight Skyheed will fall from his throne."

And for the next 45 minutes, that fridge was very popular...

* * *

Erol and Ashelin had been tailing Ruskin for some 10 minutes before they'd lost him in the winding city streets of the place they'd come to know as Aeropa. It took them another 20 or so minutes of arguing and searching before they finally found him once more. He was cowering; hiding behind a strong and important looking man that Erol immediately decided was the Duke that he'd been hearing about.

Skyheed turned his head suddenly in Erol and Ashelin's direction as they approached, perhaps becoming engrossed by Erol's vibrant colours, a rather skittish look was on his face as he eyed the two of them warily. Apparently he could tell that they were not 'his own' and was perturbed by this fact as it meant they would've had to have come through the portal. Erol had a feeling that the disgusted look Ruskin was sending in their direction wasn't helping the Duke's decision making either.

"Uh...you must be the Duke?" Erol asked politely as they approached the men. Ruskin took a few steps closer to the Duke almost protectively, sending the two of them a reproachful look that suggested he was ungrateful that they'd just brought him home.

"Yes..." the Duke responded, turning away slightly. "But whatever you want will have to wait. The Pirates have just sent us a message explaining that they plan to take us by surprise and attack from the East, in approximately 25 minutes".

Erol and Ashelin exchanged confused glances, wondering why on Earth anyone would _announce _to their prey that they were about to attack, especially when it was meant to be a surprise attack.

"Um...and _why _did they warn you of such thing in great detail?" Erol nervously asked. The Duke looked blank for a moment; he did the shifty eye a few times before slowly turning back to Erol.

"Because...this story would have no climax otherwise..." Duke Skyheed slowly responded, looking rather embarrassed to have to have admitted such a thing.

"Ah yes, of course. Then we'd be here forever..." Erol responded casually.

"And speaking of which, seeing as how this story was originally about Veger going missing, we'd best go find him. I don't suppose you've seen him?" Ashelin added seriously. Skyheed merely shook his head, looking off into the distance distractedly.

Looking along the horizon line, Erol and Ashelin noticed what seemed to be bothering the Duke. A large ship, tiny in the distance, was coming in their direction. Riding alongside it was a second, smaller shape that neither of them paid much heed too.

"Well Ashelin, we'd best find Veger and get out of here. I don't want to be caught up in combat if I don't need to be. This place isn't our problem anymore, so let's go," Erol declared and off they went back into the city streets in search of Veger.

Finding Veger proved to be a rather difficult task considering the size of the city. Erol was adamant in believing that the Head of Council was still somewhere in the city, but Ashelin, who was beginning to lose some of her positive air and simply wanted to go home now, had begun taking into consideration the fact that Veger may have left the city days ago, or perhaps ended up somewhere else in the first place. As realistic as it was to just leave now and check back after the fighting, Erol just wouldn't listen. He was so strangely desperate to find Veger that he had frantically harassed several balding people believing they were him from behind.

Erol seemed to be fast realizing that finding Veger at all, let alone before the attack (which was now only 15 minutes away), was too hard to accomplish. He had resolved to sitting on the sidewalk, moping sadly and wailing Veger's name every now and then, followed by a reminiscent of some horrible thing that he'd done to the Head of Council in the past. Ashelin had taken to tapping her foot impatiently on the ground and sighing irritably, checking her non-existent wristwatch every few seconds. Civilians of Aeropa that passed the duo occasionally threw coins at Erol's feet as though believing he was some kind of heavy-metal rap busker.

One civilian in particular was about to drop a small coin at Erol's feet when suddenly he stopped. It seemed as though he was frozen as he stared down at the crumpled remains of a once proud man. His head then turned to stare at Ashelin in shock. Ashelin looked back at him and suddenly felt herself frozen in shock too. She knew why they were there, but somehow she had not expected to actually find him...

"Veger...?" she uttered in disbelief. Erol's head suddenly snapped upwards at this and he looked about frantically before finally laying eyes on Veger.

"Veger!" Erol gasped dramatically as he clambered to his feet, arms outstretched as he took a few steps towards Veger. People in the surrounding area stopped and watched now, cheering, clapping and whistling as though watching some touching reunion between two lovers.

Veger took a few steps to the left and narrowly missed being hugged by the Commander, watching in horror as Erol instead admitted his physical friendship towards an innocent tree. Erol didn't even realize he had missed Veger and continued to sob pitifully into the bark of the tree.

"Where have you been all this time?" Ashelin asked with bewilderment as Erol continued to confess his woes to the tree.

"Hanging around here," Veger shrugged almost uncaringly.

"Well...why didn't you ever come home?" Ashelin asked, confused.

"Because I like it here," Veger declared snootily, turning his nose into the air slightly.

"But...Veger-"

"It looks better than Haven, it smells better than Haven, it's not swamped with idiots like Haven, Duke Skyheed takes care of us, unlike _Praxis_. I like it here, I'm not leaving," Veger stated stubbornly, glaring down at Ashelin.

"You're needed in Haven..." Ashelin glowered back.

Veger was about to retort to this when suddenly Erol snapped out of his wallowing and looked fearfully into the distance where the Pirates were even closer. Riding alongside the big ship, the speck that Erol and Ashelin had noticed earlier was now bigger too, and with its new size it became clearer, and as it became clearer...it became Praxis.

"Oh no...ASHELIN! Quick, it's your father!" Erol yelled, bolting off back to where they had met the Duke.

"I don't understand!" Ashelin yelled as they ran for dear life back to the Duke. "Erol, I thought you took precautions to make sure Father _didn't _forget what he was doing!"

"I _did _Ashelin; I made him that stupid CD! I have no idea why he's come here!" Erol protested angrily.

Erol reached the area they'd met the Duke first, Ashelin hot behind him, dragging Veger along too. The Duke was boarding a large ship as Erol ran over to him.

"That...that speck..." Erol panted, pointing to the figure next to the Pirate Ship, "Praxis..._Baron _Praxis...he's...dangerous...rampages...panic...McDonalds."

Skyheed took a moment to register this before it clicked in his mind that this 'Praxis' fellow must've been the one that had kidnapped his Chancellor. The one that had previously terrorised _his_ city.

"Now it's _personal_..." Skyheed hissed, continuing his ascent into his Behemoth ship. Erol, Ashelin, Veger and Ruskin were then left to watch the battle from where they were. It seemed that Praxis was rather good at air battles; he took out a large number of Aeropan ships and managed to keep a solid defence against most of the attacks fired back at him. Erol and Ashelin were caught between being scared that the innocent side was losing and being proud that Haven city was technically kicking this city's sorry rear.

Aeropa was losing terribly much to Veger and Ruskin's horror. Both of them looked rather annoyed and sweaty as they watched the Pirates mowing through Aeropa's forces. Ashelin was confused when she realised that some of Aeropa's ships seemed to be exploding without anything even happening to them. She pointed this out to Erol, who then sent Ruskin a questioning look.

"It seems the Pirates decided that, if they were to have a Baron on their side, which is near equal to the status of a Duke, they would stand more of a chance against Lord Skyheed. It seems their stupid little theory is somehow working..." Ruskin explained bitterly. Erol turned back to the battle and watched it for a while, now painfully aware of the ships blowing up for no reason at all, other than the fact that Praxis was _there_.

"If only we had a King..." Ruskin muttered under his breath several minutes later. Erol hummed in agreement, jumping slightly when a hand suddenly grabbed his wrist violently.

"Ashelin, what are you-"

"Erol, are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Ashelin asked, her face appearing lost as though she were in a trance.

"Obviosuly not..." Erol grumbled, trying to free his arm, only to fail.

"Damas..." Ashelin whispered, pulling Erol a little way away from Ruskin. "_He's _a King. If we can bring him here then it might stop my Father".

"No, no Ashelin, I'm not letting another potential _nutcase _into this city. He could just as easily side with the Pirates and then this place would be as good as obliterated. No, we're best just slipping away quietly and letting them have the smaller amount of damage available, i.e. Praxis on his own," Erol protested sternly, pulling his arm out of Ashelin's hold.

"Yeah well...who cares anyway...it's not as though this is _our _home. What does it matter if Praxis or Damas or BOTH of them send it to rubble?" Veger growled loudly. Ruskin heard this and immediately turned his head towards the trio, a disgusted look splayed on his face.

"I thought you said _this _was your home now?" Ashelin asked coyly.

"Yeah well...if Praxis is just going to follow me here too then I may as well go back to the place I'm familiar with. We may as well just do as Erol said and get out of here before Praxis kills us all..." Veger spat aggressively, glaring back at Ruskin whose own scowl seemed to intensify.

Erol laughed nervously at Veger's words, wishing he hadn't blurted such a thing out, especially not in front of Ruskin.

"Well there's no point in running away now. Fine Ashelin, we'll do it your way, let's get Damas..." Erol sighed in defeat.

And with that, Erol and Ashelin set off back to the portal while Veger and Ruskin continued their glaring contest...

* * *

Damas _had _been enjoying his Sunday afternoon (despite the fact that it was actually a Tuesday today), when Praxis' cronies had burst into his 'Me-Time Room' i.e. his throne room. They'd rushed in, screamed obscurities at the same time and, in a moment of rage at this behaviour, Damas had accidentally squeezed his Streets Cornetto too hard and the contents had spewed out from either end. Ice-creamless, confused, smelling of 3 days worth of sitting around doing nothing and covered in ice-cream, a small vein made itself known on the Desert King's forehead.

Losing his temper completely, Damas slammed his fists angrily into both his arm rests (squashing a cupcake he was saving till later and his Gameboy in the process), before ordering Ashelin and Erol to both shut up _and _get on with it.

"IT'S PRAXIS!" Erol immediately wailed, clutching his head in horror.

"He's attacking an _innocent _civilization!" Ashelin shrieked, waving her arms around frantically.

"Please, you have to stop him!" Erol begged, swooping so low in his panic that he was practically on his hands and knees now.

Damas remained silent. His eyes uninterestedly assessed them both for a moment as though he was trying to decide whether to buy lavender scented soap or rose scented soap for his bath tub.

"Hmmm," Damas murmured thoughtfully. "I'd rather not..." he decided with a bored air about him, slouching further into his seat. Erol and Ashelin stared at him in shock – for how could he _refuse _a chance to get at Praxis like this?

"But...Damas, wouldn't you like to be the hero for a change?" Ashelin asked confusedly. Damas suddenly perked up again, straightening in his throne.

"I've _always _been the hero!" Damas declared defensively, "But as _Praxis_ is the main character of these blasphemous stories, I'm automatically the villain!" Damas yelled, spit flying from his mouth. He calmed down slightly after getting this off his chest and slouched back into his throne looking solemn. "And you know, at first I thought it was because he kicked me off my throne that we we're rivals, but now I'm starting to think that perhaps it's solely because, like him, I own a city and it's within rampage distance to him..." he added dramatically.

Neither Erol nor Ashelin really knew what to say to this, so instead they took a few steps backwards, merged into a 'huddle-confab' like you'd see in a football game, realised an excited looking Sig had somehow joined in this huddle, kicked Sig out, then verbally decided that they should try a different approach to this dilemma.

"Alright Damas, uh...let's say, hypothetically speaking, you _weren't _born in Haven-" Erol paused then muttered quickly and quietly, "-then later dejected to the wasteland." He cleared his throat importantly as he took a few imposing steps towards Damas' throne, looking sly, "Let's say you were born, instead, at this place where Praxis is, The Brink."

Damas nodded in understanding to this, not being able to hide his great interest in the story-telling as he leaned forwards in his throne expectantly.

"And let's say Praxis was born there too-"

"WHAT IS THIS UNLAWFUL PARADOX?" Damas suddenly boomed, standing up animatedly. "So I can't escape him ANYWHERE?" he bellowed, "Well why don't I just roll up and _die_?"

"No, no Damas! It's not like that, it's just a 'what if'," Ashelin hurried to explain, fearing Damas' outburst would escalate into something much worse if it was left to go on. Damas snorted like an angry bull, analysed Ashelin for a moment, then collapsed back into his throne looking defiant.

"Uh...right, so," Erol began awkwardly, "So if you were both born there instead of Haven, and _Praxis _has already decided that he wants to side with the Pirates, then that means that, _by default_, you would of had to have decided to join the side of the Aeropans, the people Praxis is currently attacking. So, therefore, he's attacking _your _city."

A silence hung around the room following this statement by Erol. Damas' expression of defiance lingered.

"So...don't you wanna, you know, go save 'your people' or something...?" Ashelin asked slowly.

"Your story does not tickle my fancy," Damas declared stubbornly. "As the alternate reality you speak of does not truly exist, I have no business in Praxis' _activities_ _of choice_," he added smartly.

"What now, Ashelin?" Erol whispered desperately, "He's too smart!"

"Maybe he is...or maybe..." Ashelin turned to Damas suddenly, stalking up to him.

There was a moment of silence; Ashelin was staring up at Damas intently. Erol gulped, Ashelin's eyes narrowed, Damas' eyebrow arched, in the background Sig swooned and fainted dramatically. Ashelin's lips parted slowly, she took in a long draw of air and then, possibly the fastest she'd ever spoken whilst looking so calm she said:

"He's trying to take over your Wasteland at the Brink."

This was it now; Ashelin had dropped the ever scandalised 'W-Bomb'. And it had worked.

"WHAT? That SCOUNDREL!" Damas howled, standing from his throne with such a force that it toppled over (in spite of the fact that it was cemented to the ground). In a flurry of frantic rage, Damas grabbed his nearby staff and went storming out of the room, via his lift, into the Spargus streets below. Erol and Ashelin were in mild shock of what effect the W-Bomb had had on Damas. Ashelin had expected it to work, of course, but not for it to send Damas into the streets below screaming at the top of his voice of a 'Code Red'. It seemed they'd achieved more than they'd bargained for.

From atop Spargus, the distress below was all too clear. Erol and Ashelin could hear Damas screaming for Kleiver to bring out the vehicle of war. From above, in the throne room, they could even hear the distant purr of this 'vehicle of war' as it approached Damas' Palace.

"Come on, we'd better get down there," Erol suggested, he and Ashelin then making their way down to the city on the lift. When they found themselves on ground level, they rushed out into the city and were immediately met with the sight of Damas charging towards them, other Spargus civilians running around yelling and randomly shooting things they apparently thought were threatening; a shell wind-chime and a watermelon were amongst these things.

"Kleiver is coming with the Vehicle of War. When he does, you will lead me to Praxis!" Damas commanded furiously. The elevator gears creaked behind them, and suddenly the doors of Damas' Palace flew open to allow Sig to exit.

"Daman!" Sig yelled in a panic, rushing to Damas.

"It's a Code Red Sig; assemble the army!" Damas instructed proudly.

"Yeah, assemble the army I know, but I forget what Code Red is! I forget what all of them are!" Sig wailed with horror, his single eye wide and frantic. Damas sighed, slapped his palm into his forehead exasperatedly and then groaned.

"Sig, we've been through this a thousand times," Damas moaned, turning to Sig and staring at him sternly. "First we have Code White, which means all is well. Next comes Code Green, which means the harvest is ready. Code Blue announces a 'beach day', Code Pink is Kleiver's Birthday. Code Purple: Praxis has _left _Haven city, Code Yellow: Praxis has been spotted in the desert, Code Orange: Praxis has been spotted on the horizon line, _Code Red: _Praxis is invading _my_ Wasteland, Code Black: Praxis is using my hairbrush, and finally, Code Rainbow: Praxis is sitting in my throne. Do you understand, Sig?"

Sig stood still for a moment, apparently taking all this information in before he began nodding vigorously. He then tore off into the city, screaming for the Army to be assembled. Damas muttered something vulgar under his breath then turned expectantly in the opposite direction where the sound of the Vehicle of War's engine was growing ever louder.

Erol trembled in anticipation; whatever this Vehicle of War was, it sounded loud and ferocious, like nothing in the world could ever hope to compare to it. It held the sound of something large, something strong, something undefeatable. Erol wasn't sure whether the ground was shaking or whether it was just him. All the liquid evaporated from his throat, a bead of sweat rolled down his face, a white tinge crept over his skin. The world could've slipped away and the Commander would not have noticed. He was fixated and determined, yet a little scared to see this mechanical beast. It was coming now, closer, higher over the dusty city streets. This was it, it was nearing; all hope rested on this single creation of God. Slowly, dramatically, it crawled into sight with Kleiver at its helm...

"Um...isn't that a _lawn mower_?" Erol croaked before his brain had even really registered this fact. As his senses started flooding back to him, Erol mentally affirmed that yes, it was in fact a lawn mower. The only thing different about it were two smallish gun turrets positioned on either side of the hood. The disgusting brown-yellow paint glistening sickly in the hot sun as the blades worked below, shearing several weeds that had once been growing sweetly out of the pavement cracks.

"She is beautiful, yes?" Damas murmured, wiping away what could only have been a tear of joy. "I assembled her myself, see. I have no other creation that could make me prouder..." Damas sniffed. Just at that moment Jak sauntered past.

"Hey Dad, how's it hangin?" he lazily waved.

"Shut up, Jak!" Damas yelled.

"Sure thing Papa-D," and with that Jak was gone again.

Kleiver pulled up with the mower a moment later, and now that it was closer, Erol could see that it was pulling along a small, green trailer. Fighting the urge to argue to Damas how unpractical this 'Vehicle of War' would be in the face of Praxis, Erol clambered into the trailer upon a commanding point of Damas' finger. Kleiver by this stage had ejected himself from the mower's seat and was glaring at Erol and Ashelin jealously, which suggested that this trailer was usually reserved for him. With one final distasteful look at Erol, Ashelin then Damas, Kleiver broke into tears and ran out sight.

"Kleiver no! It's not like that!" Damas called after Kleiver, though he made no effort to run after him. Instead he sighed sadly, shook his head slowly then climbed onto the mower. Erol soon discovered that the Vehicle of War went a lot faster than your typical mower. Within a few minutes they were blazing back through the wasteland towards Haven city.

"So um..." Erol whispered to Ashelin, still finding one fatal flaw with Damas' Vehicle of War, "When do we tell him that this is an aerial battle?"

"We don't..." Ashelin shrugged, not wanting to risk Damas changing his mind about helping out.

It was a mystery how they got the mower over the ocean, through the security wall and back into Haven city (come to think of it I shouldn't have bought that up because now people are going to seriously think about that), and Erol and Ashelin began to feel anxious as they approached the Yakkow paddocks that hosted the portal to Aeropa.

Damas slammed his foot onto the accelerator and plunged them all into the swirling blue portal before them.

* * *

**Bijoux: Poor Damas...he speaks the truth in so many ways... There's one last installment for the "Through Belch and Space" saga left, which I'll aim to update in a weeks time or so. Until then I hope you enjoyed this part :D Like always, we love to receive feedback, so any thoughts/comments, just send 'em our way. Thanks for reading :)**


	41. Through Belch and Space PT4

**Bijoux: Okay, here we go. At last, the fourth installment, the FINAL installment to the "Through Belch and Space" saga. I hope I've given it justice and that no one will be disappointed with the climax ;D A big thank you to everyone who's been reading this little saga, and special thanks for everyone who took the time to review it, thank you very much :D**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyright material/references belong to their rightful/original owners.**

**

* * *

Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**Through Belch and Space**

**Part Four

* * *

**

When Erol, Ashelin and Damas arrived at the perch where they'd left Veger and Ruskin, it appeared that the battle had come to a standstill. According to Veger, the Aeropans had bought some precious time when the Duke had cunningly called 'Half Time' and the Pirates had stupidly fallen for it. When the Aeropans registered that Damas wished to drive his mower into battle, they immediately swamped it, attempting to make it air-friendly. Damas did not like this in the slightest and took to warding anyone who came within 6 feet of his mower away by waving his staff around dangerously.

But after some reassuring words (and a powerful sedative received via tranquilizer into his rear), Damas relinquished guard over his Vehicle of War and decided that it was far more entertaining for him if he were to sit on a nearby trash can and giggle profusely at something in the sky that no one else could see. Within minutes the many skilled mechanics of Aeropa had assembled more weapons and a set of wings onto the mower, removed the trailer from the back, put in a massive rocket exhaust on the rear and even given it a snazzy side decoration of a profile view of Damas' screaming face (which even included spit flying from his mouth). With the final adjustments in place (a silver hood ornament of a backside scratching Kleiver and a large flag which read: King Damas) the Vehicle of War was ready for takeoff.

Standing back and admiring his new vehicle, Damas took a few mere moments before he began asking where the Jacuzzi was hidden. Only after he'd lifted the bonnet hood and attempted to climb into the engine hold was he reminded promptly that this was not an episode of 'Pimp My Ride'.

Damas was then dunked in a bath of coffee, hosed off, given the keys to his Vehicle of War and was sent on his battle-hungry way. The fighting recommenced between the Pirates and Aeropans and, much to the Aeropans joy, a few of the Pirate aircrafts exploded just because Damas looked at them funny. A few more of them exploded just because _they _looked at Damas funny.

The King of Spargus flew across the battlefield with the grace of a majestic ballerina; mower whirring angrily, missiles launching freely and blades turning swiftly as he took out Pirate after Pirate. Praxis seemed blissfully unaware of Damas' presence as he flew about in his customised fridge. This changed however, when Damas swooped the Phantom Blade and cut up its pirate flag with his mower blades as a sign of taunting.

Praxis witnessed this show of aggression, and immediately set off after the offender. His rage amplified quiet significantly when he realised that Damas was to blame for it, let alone that he was there in the first place. Praxis pursued Damas for a while, firing missiles _and _insults at him. Damas was quick to realize Praxis firing at him and did a barrel roll to break his line of fire. It seemed that such an act not only threw out Praxis' aim, but also his ability to insult properly and he began to brainlessly slur.

"You'll live to regret the day you invaded _my _battlefield, Damas !" Praxis roared angrily, finally correcting himself as Damas swerved around to face him head to head. They hovered a few metres in front of each other, glowering.

"You're one to talk! Figured you'd get as far away from me as possible to take my Wasteland, did you?" Damas retorted angrily.

"THIS IS **MY** CITY!" Praxis defied, slamming his fist onto the side of his fridge in rage.

"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU _TRY!_" Damas bellowed back. Trash-talking over with, the two leaders charged at each other head on. Damas was a mere distance from Praxis when he slammed on the brakes and pulled the mower upwards to do a backwards somersault. Praxis screamed and leaned backwards as the mower's blades narrowly missed his face, instead shaving off a few strands of his moustache. Praxis let out a girlish scream, fast realizing the danger he was in. He lurched his steering wheel to the left to get away. Damas had to quickly duck his head in, mid somersault, to avoid it getting taken out by Praxis' right wing (which was actually just half of the fridge door with a few attachments).

Praxis floored his accelerator, firing madly at anyone in his way, be they friend or foe. Damas quickly pulled back into correct altitude and angle and went soaring after Praxis, shooting some strategically aimed missiles after him. The Baron had to pull a few rolls of his own to avoid the missiles and they instead went ploughing into a few innocent Pirates (as though they knew that they were Damas' enemy too).

"Leave me alone!" Praxis cried desperately, peering over his shoulder at Damas with a fearful look on his face.

"NEVER!" Damas screamed, hunching further over his mower steering wheel and somehow picking up speed just by doing this. Praxis let out another girlish squeal and tried with all his might to create this effect with his fridge. The only thing he succeeded in doing however, was sending his fridge into a nose-dive towards the ocean below. As the fridge was still full of food, Praxis was forced to watch helplessly as some of the loose morsels flew from their shelves and fell to their demise.

This had a strange effect on Praxis and he began to question, angrily, how much more food had to _drown_ before Damas would be satisfied. Gritting his teeth, tears of determination streaming from his eye, a low growl emitting from his throat, Praxis leaned backwards and pulled the fridge back up to fly at a normal angle just before he hit the ocean. Water sprayed up all around him and Damas roared angrily from somewhere behind him as he was no doubt soaked through by it.

Praxis pulled the fridge further upwards and Damas followed suit, keeping a few meters behind him. After a while Praxis managed to get behind Damas by performing a complicated looking flip; he took to firing at Damas immediately, becoming the hunter instead of the hunted. This continued for a while before Damas formulated a cunning plan. Rolling over 180 degrees so he was flying upside down, Damas let Praxis catch up to him, lessened the altitude of his Vehicle of War so he was flying directly under the Baron, then slowly moved back upwards until he heard the sound of the mower blades grinding against the bottom of the fridge. Praxis screamed once more and shot off as fast as he could.

Correcting himself, Damas flew after him, relentless in his chase he began to try and hover over Praxis to strike him with the mower blades. Praxis caught on to this ploy by Damas and began to swerve around madly. Countless times Damas missed Praxis and instead churned up the leaves of some palm tree growing off a few scattered islands.

When Damas finally managed to get Praxis under the blades there was a sickening scraping noise, like fingernails on a chalk board as metal connected with metal. Sparks shot from between Praxis' metal head and Damas' metal mower blades. Praxis seemed rather unfazed by this for a moment before he realised what was actually happening. He made frantic noises of worry as he pulled into a sideways roll to escape Damas.

Either Praxis had managed to create a wide birth between he and Damas through sheer skill, or Damas had got distracted and backed off. Praxis was whimpering and cowering, wishing he was safely back on his McDonalds Crawl when he suddenly remembered that there was food in the fridge (the time it took was shocking really). Praxis was a repeat offender of turning to food for comfort, so it was really no surprise when he began to madly gorge on the food around him. Blocks of cheese, whole roast chickens, frozen pizzas and miscellaneous Pirate crew leftovers were just some of the things he was seen stuffing in his mouth by curious (and perhaps innocent) bystanders.

He'd nearly emptied a third of the fridge's contents when Damas caught up with him. To make matters worse, Damas had apparently discovered a range of other weapons on his vehicle during his short absence and was now wielding a variety of lasers, mines, bombs, rockets, hoses that were spewing acid, tubes that were belching deadly looking rainbow coloured gases and a large spear that was protruding from the front of the mower that kept making wild jabbing motions. Though perhaps most menacing of all these things was what appeared to be a volleyball net attached to the mower near the centre. It was nearly twice Damas' height whilst he was standing, and instead of rope netting there was raw electricity coursing between to the two poles. Strangely similar to windshield wipers this net kept creating an arch over the mower. As stupid as this contraption looked, and as much as Praxis chuckled at it when he first saw it, it soon occurred to the loveable Baron that in all reality it would prevent anyone getting anywhere near Damas unless they flew underneath him. It was a horrible truth, but it meant something nasty if Damas managed to close the gap between himself and Praxis even more.

Praxis screamed at the top of his lungs and did the only thing he could think of: eat. He gorged like he'd never gorged before. Cakes, cold meat, open cans of food, jars of pickles, a leg of ham, a tub of butter; it didn't matter what it was, if Praxis could reach it, he'd eat it. A few barrel rolls later all this food was churned up and mixed around in the Baron's gut. It gurgled and screamed in protest, and just when it looked as though it couldn't get any worse, Praxis added one fatal ingredient. In order to wash down a particularly stubborn lump of dry cupcake, Praxis swallowed a whole bottle of lemonade in three gulps.

Damas could hardly believe what he saw in the time that followed. At first it sounded as though Praxis was roaring in some kind of drunken rage, but then Damas felt a chill go down his spine, like when a domestic house pet hears the distant howl of a wild stray dog, and he realised what he had really heard. A dark swirling mass appeared in thin air before Praxis and he drove into it without fear. A challenge had been set, and Damas loved challenges. Flooring his gas pedal he hurtled after the Baron and out of site.

* * *

Torn had been busy cleaning up the Underground for several hours now. After his run in with Ashelin, almost everything had been broken or covered in black soot. He'd managed to get most of his stray items back together and put back where they belonged, washed the bed sheets and remade the beds, mopped the burn marks off the ceiling and filled bullet holes with plaster, when suddenly there was a loud tearing noise from behind him, followed by something that sounded like a machine gun.

Turning around so fast that he stumbled slightly, Torn saw a most horrendous sight. He was forced to duck and take cover under his table as Baron Praxis and Damas suddenly burst into his Underground through what appeared to be a large tear that seemed to be slowly closing up. Praxis flew around the main table, shooting madly and blindly, closely followed by Damas who was firing and wielding a range of other crazily destructive weapons. Torn screamed in horror and watched helplessly as his Underground was torn to shreds once more. Posters flew from walls, shelves and cabinets collapsed, the table began to fall apart from all the bullets flying into it, some crazy electric fly swat contraption coming off of Damas' 'plane' took out the bunk beds with one foul swoop and finally Praxis released a heat seeking missile that, quite predictably, made a bee-line for the furnace as soon as it was shot. As the Underground underwent a second explosion in one day, Torn heard a deep rumble from amongst the chaos and once the smoke and debris cleared, Praxis and Damas were gone.

* * *

Kras city was having one of its daily races. Razer had been having one heck of a time, trying to contend with Jak, who, apart from being a road hog, kept somehow picking up Supa Nova weapons then falling to the back of the pack before letting them off. Razer, after finally finding some lovely rockets to fire at Jak, was surprised when someone beat him to it. Swivelling around angrily in his chair to see who had taken such a delightful experience from him, he was awestruck to see a mower and fridge flying towards him.

Razer slammed on the accelerator and fired up his turbo as far as it would go. Screaming abuse and mercy at the same time, Razer crossed the finish line and won the race without even realising. Jak, who had been reborn by this stage, waved merrily up at the two lunatics flying above them.

"Hey Dad! How's it hangin?" Jak yelled happily.

But Jak did not get an answer, for at that very moment a stray missile from above flew at him and blew him up once more. Razer screamed some profanities and tried to drive faster, the thought of just braking and letting them pass not crossing his mind. Just when Razer thought he was done for he heard a loud sound from above and suddenly all the chaos stopped.

"Oh thank god..." he breathed, rolling to a stop.

A moment later Shiv ran into the back of him after not being able to brake in time and there was a marvellous explosion.

* * *

Somewhere in outer space, aboard a dark, sinister looking Space Ship, Cyber Errol was making equally sinister plans with the Dark Markers. He cackled madly, thoughts of Haven City in shambles tickling his fancy as nothing else had ever done.

He smiled wickedly at the Dark Makers, admiring the plans they'd made, when suddenly the sound of a fly being undone – amplified by about 2 million times – erupted. He and the Dark Makers looked around, startled as two lunatics appeared in the Space Ship. They flew around firing stupidly at anything that moved (and anything that didn't too).

"NO! NO YOU FOOLS! You'll kill us all!" Cyber Errol cried, watching as the machinery and control panels were obliterated around him.

It wasn't long before finally the big fat moron in front, who Cyber Errol found himself recognizing (all the while remembering painful memories of McDonalds as well), shot a giant hole in the side of the ship. All the oxygen began to gush out of the ship, evaporating into nothingness as gravity too disappeared.

Continuing to zoom around destructively, blowing things up as they went along, the idiots stole the last of Cyber Errol's air in greedy gulps before there was a tremendous rumble then an eerie calm.

Several moments later the Dark Makers' ship exploded, thus ending their potential reign of horror before it had even begun…

* * *

Onin and Pecker had been enjoying a quiet lunch in their tent when suddenly there was a tearing noise, a few explosions, and suddenly they were bathed in sunlight. Looking into the bright blue sky above, it became apparent that some large, flying creature had taken the tent.

From what Pecker could see, it had become caught on some giant electric net and was waving about madly whilst on fire. When a large hole burnt through the tent it was catapulted at the aircraft in front and its driver began to scream madly whilst trying to get rid of the burning tent. A loud sound erupted, a dark hole appeared and suddenly the two figures in the sky were gone.

* * *

Kleiver was pottering around in his recently recreated and cleaned up garage when there was a tearing noise, a whistling noise, an explosion, a roar, a tear and then silence. Looking around Kleiver began to question what exactly had just blown all his cars to cinders for the second time that day.

Samos had been taking a walk in Haven forest, trying to reconstruct his head-log and get some fresh air after being suffocated earlier, when suddenly, following a loud rip, he was doused in some rainbow coloured fumes and began to writhe on the forest floor.

* * *

Seem was having a lovely conversation with a Precursor statue in the Monk Temple when suddenly, in a flash of light, something speared through its head and tore it from its shoulders. A loud noise and the perpetrators were gone.

* * *

Brutter was rearranging trinkets when suddenly something large and bronze flew from the sky and crushed his stall into oblivion.

* * *

Vin was collaborating the eco-grid in the power station when suddenly all his computers blew up, causing him to run from the place in terror.

* * *

Jinx was reaching for his TV remote to change the channel when he accidentally nudged it and it slid down the side of the sofa...

* * *

Spargus had grown a certain peace about it since Damas had called forth a Code Red earlier that day. The Wastelanders were meandering about the place pointlessly as they usually did, when a large dark spot appeared in the sky and out of it shot two aircrafts that appeared to be battling each other.

The Wastelanders below soon realised that it was their King Damas and his nemesis, Baron Praxis. The two of them spiralled around madly, Damas chasing Praxis down, much to the cheers of his subjects below. Praxis was just about to be taken out by the electric net when his main character charm kicked in.

He belched one last time; it was a weak, pitiful belch and yet it held enough power to open up a portal for the beloved Baron. He flew through it faster than he'd ever driven before and found himself face to face with his own Palace. He peered behind him just in time to see the small portal closing up just before Damas had a chance to squeeze through it.

Foggy headed and running on pure fear, Praxis clambered from his fridge aircraft and went bolting up the Palace steps. He leapt into the elevator and felt twinges of relief as it zoomed him to safety. Once the doors opened on the right floor, Praxis scurried from the small compartment and into his bedroom where he crawled into his favourite hiding place and dwindled away the hours hoping Erol and Ashelin would come home soon.

* * *

An hour had passed at the Brink since Praxis and Damas had vanished through one of the Baron's 'home made' portals. The Pirates had by now retreated upon realising that a Pirate Captain was not of equal value to a Duke and thus they were no match for the Aeropans anymore. The Duke and his citizens, including Ruskin, had all retreated further into the city to relax and/or celebrate their victory.

Erol, Ashelin and Veger were the only ones left in the immediate area. They figured they'd wait around just to be sure the Baron would not return. They were even a little worried about what had actually happened to Praxis and Damas, fearing a scenario where one had actually succeeded in killing the other. Praxis and Damas were rather unstable without each other. They needed Praxis to keep Damas in line and they needed Damas to keep Praxis in line; it was a simple equation really, that in the end determined everyone else's survival in life.

After waiting around for about 4 hours, by which time night had fallen on the Brink, Erol, Ashelin and Veger decided to call it a day and headed back to the portal to go home. When they found themselves back in Haven City, they made their way to the Palace, discussing conspiracy theories of what had happened to Praxis and Damas. When they passed the charred remains of what appeared to be Onin's tent floating in the Port, the trio began to get an inkling of _some _of the places Praxis and Damas had taken their fight. When they then passed Torn near Mar's Tomb having an argument with his landlord, they grew more suspicious. But the biggest telltale sign to Praxis' whereabouts was his discarded fridge-ship near the Palace steps.

Affirming that Praxis must be therefore somewhere in the Palace, the trio entered and took the lift upstairs. Erol was immediately elected to go find Praxis while Ashelin went to raid the food and Veger went to inspect the potential damage done to his room.

Erol checked what he thought would be the third most obvious place for Praxis to be (the first and second places being the kitchen and the dining room) gingerly. He opened the Baron's bedroom door softly and peered inside. The lights were off so he cautiously reached in and turned them on.

"Baron Praxis Sir...are you in here?" Erol asked shakily, stepping into the room and making sure that he left the door wide open in case Praxis suddenly came charging out of the nearby closet. When Erol received no answer he scanned the room slowly. At first he didn't see where Praxis was hiding, but when he finally did see him Erol wondered how he could have been so blind.

Praxis was hiding under his bed, as he had a habit of doing when he was scared (though occasionally he branched out and hid under other people's beds – thus where the fear of monsters lurking under beds stemmed from). The problem was, however, that Praxis was far too big to successfully hide in the crack between his bed and the floor. The bed, therefore, teetered on top of him quite comically, rather like a seesaw with children playing on it.

"Is he gone...?" Praxis whimpered from the ground.

"You mean Damas?" Erol asked, quirking an eyebrow and wondering what exactly Damas had done to make Praxis this scared. "I think he's gone. That is to say, I haven't seen him Sir, and usually when he's around people know..." Erol shrugged.

Figuring Praxis would be fine in a few hours, Erol left shortly after this, finding himself in the kitchen where he was swiftly abused by Ashelin who believed it was far too unsafe to let her large father stay in the same spot for long periods of time, especially on a higher story. Erol was sent out of the kitchen as fast as he'd arrived and forced to remove the Baron by whatever means possible.

This 'whatever means possible' turned out to be in the form of empty promises of ice-cream being served in the lounge. It took Erol several minutes to realize that he was suddenly communicating with a dust cloud the shape of Praxis and not the real thing. Making his way down to the lounge where he decided Veger and Ashelin were now settled along with an ice-cream hungry Praxis, Erol suddenly heard confused sounding babbling:

"Wha...wha...Who is _THIS_?"

"Uh...this is _Veger_, Father."

"No it's not! I want my other Veger back!"

"No—no, Father you can't-"

Something smashed downstairs followed by loud footsteps and screams of imposters. And as Erol began to piece together the fact that Praxis was going back to the Brink to get Ruskin, the Commander realized that tonight might just never end...

* * *

**Bijoux: Ah, thank god it's over, right? XD I hope everyone enjoyed that, and I would love to get some feedback for it - constructive criticism and suggestions are always welcome :) I was thinking of drawing up (or getting Corad to draw up) what Praxis and Damas' vehicles looked like and putting them up on Deviant Art. Would anyone be interested in seeing them? Please let me know if you would :) **

**Also a quick question for anyone who's reading: When it comes to reading Palace Stories, do you prefer long chapters for the one "episode" or do you prefer several shorter chapters for the one "episode"?  
**

**And if anyone likes "Mothers" you'll love what I've got in store for you in the near future ;)  
**


	42. Mama Praxis PT1

**Bijoux: Finally updating again. Sorry for the wait, I had it done a few months ago but I was waiting for a certain someone to proof-read it for me :( Thanks for all the reviews for the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this next installment. It's a three part "episode" this time :D**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners. **

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* * *

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**Palace Stories – Yo Mama Exaggerated It**

**Mama Praxis**

**Part One  
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* * *

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Ashelin could not remember when she had last felt so terrified. Standing there, stick straight in the Palace lounge room, she truly thought no other moment of fright had ever, or could ever, top this. No, this was _full blown _horror that she was experiencing – much worse than that tiny feeling of dread she'd felt the other day when she'd been stuck in an elevator with a gassy Krew (who promptly tried to cover his _noises _with poorly timed coughs and hums).

Nothing could save them. They were doomed, no better than dead - the lot of them. The city, as they knew it, would soon be no more. And what was to bring about this ominous prophecy you may ask? Well, it was a simple matter really, so simple in fact, that Praxis called it..._mummy. _

Yes, Praxis' Mother, no doubt similar in nature to her abundance of a son, was coming to visit. Ashelin was planning to be conveniently at Torn's when this happened, which was really the only thing keeping her remotely sane at the moment. But the thought of the Underground's limited beds therefore glued Ashelin's lips very tightly together. Erol, Veger and those other poor fools stranded in the Palace would have to learn of their doom the hard way, by which time she would be safely hauled up in the Underground.

Ashelin turned on her heel, readying to rush to her room to pack and escape the madness before it began, but just as she spotted the doorway, one of the last people she wanted to see waltzed into the room looking rather perturbed.

Erol spotted Ashelin instantly and made a beeline for her, striding up to her in lengthy steps as though he could taste her plan of escaping to Torn's in the air. Half-heartedly reassuring herself that Erol didn't have the ability to taste other peoples thoughts (nor his own for that matter), Ashelin forced herself to look casual, and smiled stiffly at the approaching Commander.

"Ashelin," Erol spoke hurriedly, "I don't mean to create a panic, but have you seen your father recently?"

"N...no..." Ashelin lied, her voice wavering. Erol's expression swooped into disappointment at once, maybe even disgust.

"I just thought you'd like to know, he seems very adamant in redecorating the Palace. He's already managed to plaster posters of various foods around the place, not to mention he's forced Veger into a little sailors outfit, complete with blonde, ringlet wig and oversized lollipop – _of which you father keeps trying to eat himself anyway_." Erol did not seem as sorry for the latter part as he explained the Baron's strange behaviour. With no interjection from Ashelin, Erol continued, pulling a folded, fancy looking letter from his pocket, "Also, have you any idea what these..._invites _are about? I found it in my mail this mor-"

"WHAT?" Ashelin suddenly barked, snatching the paper from Erol's hand rather animatedly and reading it through furiously a few times. It became apparent to Erol almost immediately that Ashelin knew something he didn't.

"So, you are aware of what he's doing?" Erol asked dubiously, quirking an eyebrow.

"N...no...I just..." Ashelin stuttered, inwardly cursing at her being discovered.

"So then how come you are surprised by the invites to the Baron's _Dinner Party_, yet not surprised by his actions?" Erol enquired rather disdainfully. "I'm sure you'll notice that _Torn's _name is on the VIP list at the bottom. I know _I _did," Erol pushed on, now with an air of sarcasm, feeling betrayed that Ashelin had not forewarned him of any of this, and was now refusing to tell him what it was about.

Ashelin could not answer. She was too busy gaping horrendously at the bottom of the paper in her hands, which - true to Erol's words - spelled out the name Torn, amongst others, underneath a heading labelled VIP. Perhaps enjoying the feeling of 'pulling the carpet out from under Ashelin's feet', Erol continued.

"I assume you also notice the small text at the bottom of the page? Yes? Yes, the one that says 'those who do not attend will be used for rampage practise'. So, seems like Torn will be arriving any moment now. Aren't you happy Ashelin?" Erol faked happiness on Ashelin's behalf, watching intently as her eye seemed to twitch a few times, disbelief still slathered hideously on her face.

"Oh no, of course you're not," Erol chortled sardonically. "So tell me...what _is _your father up to?" he demanded, his expression becoming very serious now.

Ashelin sighed in defeat, all hope of escape gone. She lowered the paper to her side and stared at the floor as though gearing up to tell a small child that she'd run over their favourite toy with the lawn mower.

"Alright, you got me," she admitted sadly. "Okay Erol, what I'm about to tell you isn't pretty but...well, much like every living thing on this planet, two people came together to create my father..." there was a long pause, "And...well...that's it," she shrugged almost uncaringly. Erol stared at her dumbfounded for a minute, Ashelin beginning to wonder whether the concept of parents _was _entirely new to Erol. It took the Commander a minute or so to finally catch on to what Ashelin was saying, and when he finally did, a horror-struck look came over him.

"You...you don't mean...no! They're not coming..._here_?" Erol asked frantically, his eyes darting around crazily as though expecting a herd of Barons to burst into the room from every way at any second now.

"No," Ashelin replied and was slightly guilty when Erol looked half relieved for a second, "_they're _not...but _she _is."

"M-mother Praxis?" Erol shakily asked, his voice hoarse and quiet, again appearing scared that the Barons would start flooding in at any given moment. Ashelin nodded solemnly, her expression grave. "But...why only his mother? What about his father?" Erol asked, fearing the answer would be something along the lines of 'she ate him'.

"Oh...well...Grandad and Father don't get along very well. They're very competitive see. Whenever their eyes meet they feel compelled to...well, _out belch _each other..." Ashelin said this last part as though the words themselves tasted bad. "It's a male dominance thing I suspect..." she added as an afterthought, though a little too casually for Erol's liking.

"...And um...where does this..._illustrious_ pair live, then?" Erol asked, trying hard to lighten his mood.

"I'm not too sure. I always try to avoid visiting them. I would imagine it'd be somewhere near a food court though..." Ashelin said rather thoughtfully.

"Oh well, _that _narrows down the search..." Erol spat sarcastically. After a moment of reflective silence, Erol sighed in defeat, taking his invite back from Ashelin. "At any rate," he said, half-heartedly trying to sound happy as he skimmed down the large list of invitees, "at least we won't be going at this alone..."

* * *

Praxis' mother was due to arrive late that afternoon, by which time Erol and Ashelin had promptly warned most of the inhabitants of the Palace (who had then warned the rest of the city). It was an hour or two before Mama Praxis was to arrive when Erol, Ashelin and a sailor-girl clad Veger entered the lounge room once more. Upon entering the room, they first noticed Praxis frantically smoothing a poster of a large scoop of ice cream on the far wall. The second thing they spotted was a large, ugly, fluffy, purple rug on the ground at the centre of the room.

Veger could've sworn that this rug made displeased noises when stood on, but Ashelin and Erol promptly ignored him when he tried to tell them about it. Praxis' dinner guests (those poor unsuspecting fools) were set to come to the Palace any minute now, in order to get comfortable (and locked in for the night) before welcoming Mama Praxis. The Baron seemed to think that the more people he got to cheer for his mother, the more popular he'd look, which, everyone knew, was a fatal flaw of a working man trying to impress his parents.

Erol and Ashelin had immersed themselves in a conversation about racing zoomers, something which successfully allowed them to block out Veger, who was still eyeing Praxis' ugly new rug suspiciously, when Jak arrived "Fashionably Early". He screamed party at the top of his lungs and raced into the room with a six-pack (of lemonade) swinging ominously from his hand so suddenly, that it made Veger scream (something he may have done anyway upon seeing Jak).

The blonde hero did not seem to realize the apparent disinterest at his arrival and instead began 'w00ting' loudly as he hip-thrusted his way towards the couches upon which Erol, Ashelin and Veger were seated. Veger gave off another small scream at the sight of the approaching Jak, and began cowering somewhat, while Erol and Ashelin continued their conversation as normal. Praxis in the meantime was also too distracted to notice Jak, having become rather distressed when a large crease would not flatten from his ice cream poster.

Daxter was next to arrive at the party, accompanied by Tess. He seemed rather annoyed that Jak had left without him, though quickly stopped complaining when he spotted a table of food nearby. This table of food did not last long however, as soon after Krew arrived with Sig and Jinx as his entourage. It took both Sig and Jinx to try and pull Krew away from the food, but to no avail, it was gone within seconds.

Razer arrived after this, dumping his "date" UR86 in the doorway and seeking Jinx (simply because he _too_ smelt like tobacco) out of the crowd in order to spiritedly complain to him about the rising price of cigarettes. Samos came next, arm in arm with an exasperated looking Keira. Surprisingly enough Damas barged into the room soon later, flaunted by Kleiver, Seem and what appeared to be a duplicate of Sig (apparently he couldn't decide who he wanted to hang around with so he split in two). Damas instantaneously began loudly pointing out flaws with the Baron's sense of decorating while fanning himself luxuriously with his own invite.

Vin stumbled into the room after this and automatically made a beeline for Jak once he saw him, as if wanting protection. Kor slouched in next, looking extremely irritable and muttering to himself angrily. Onin came a little late, complaining (via Pecker) crudely about the Palace's many stairs, before moving further into the room to flirt with Samos, Kor and Veger at the same time (again via Pecker).

It seemed that finally, everyone was here. They were only, from what Erol could remember, a person or two short. Praxis soon solved this problem to a certain degree, by angrily thrusting his head out the window and screaming rather boorishly "TOOOOOOOOORN". With no response or appearance from Torn, Praxis again screamed his name, this time more incoherent and angrier. Again nothing, so the Baron took his yelling up another notch. Another 5 screams of rage later, Torn finally arrived in the Palace lounge room, looking as though his male pride had taken a very severe beating. He quickly hid himself amongst the crowd and tried to disassociate himself with everyone else, most likely out of embarrassment.

A moment later, Praxis cleared his throat meaningfully, thanked everyone for coming and directed them to move into the foyer for the arrival of his mother. A quiet mummer broke out amongst the guests following this, some of them apparently not knowing _why _they had been invited here in the first place, Sig stupidly declaring that the only reason _he'd _come was because he'd been given a free sheet of paper. With a few shrugs about the room, the crowd then complied with the Baron's request and moved as a large garbling mass out of the room.

Veger was last to leave the room, keeping a smart distance from the door as everyone else struggled to try and get out of it at the same time. He was left alone, for a moment, with that ugly rug he was so paranoid of. He was eyeing it suspiciously one last time as though hoping it would come to life and explain to him what made it so conspicuous when, as if it had read his mind, rather merrily the rug declared, "Brutter finally been invited to someone else's party, yes?" in a muffled voice. Veger could not contain the squeal of fear that came from his throat and soon found himself fleeing the room after the large group of guests.

Praxis then promptly stuck his head back into the room and screamed, "Shut up and do your job!" Still remaining merry, the rug complied.

* * *

When everyone had assembled in the foyer, they waited for several minutes longer for Mama Praxis to arrive. During this time Praxis looked rather fidgety and sweaty and many began to suspect he'd been hanging around Vin too much. By the time Mother Praxis' zoomer pulled up outside Praxis' arm-pit sweat patches had grown so large that they were beginning to merge together.

"She's here!" the Baron gasped, hopping about from foot to foot as he began to shake. "Quick, everyone make her feel welcome when she comes in!" Praxis demanded, somehow managing to calm himself down considerably by the time the automatic Palace doors began to open. When Mother Praxis stepped into the room she was a silhouette against the city behind her; everyone cheered in welcome to her and Jak screamed "Happy Birthday", before they'd even got a clear look at her.

When she finally waddled completely into the room and into clear view she was not what many had expected to see. She was a plump lady, a few heads shorter than her son, with a sweet, childlike face. In her pink nail polished hands she was knitting something equally pink that looked like it was designed to cover a large teapot. She seemed playfully overwhelmed with all the attention she was getting, blushing and covering her mouth with her hand in grateful surprise.

"Oh Praxy," she chimed, turning to her son, "You gathered all your little friends here to welcome me? How sweet of you." And with that she promptly finished whatever she was knitting, reached up and placed it atop Praxis' metal head. He giggled giddily at his new present, playing with the fluffy pompon attached to its top.

"Thank you, Mummy," Praxis said delightedly.

Soon after this, Mother Praxis was waddled from the room, arm in arm with her son. Everyone followed them out the room except for Erol who quickly held Ashelin back.

"What is it, Erol?" Ashelin asked irritably.

"Praxis' Mother...you made her out to be...well...nasty," Erol said looking confused.

"Yeah, and?" Ashelin sighed looking even more annoyed.

"Well...she doesn't seem to have an evil bone in her, does she? Are you sure you haven't misunderstood her all these years?" Erol replied, a joking look coming to his face as he tried to comprehend how someone as pleasant as the woman he'd just seen could be as 'awful' as Ashelin made her out to be.

Ashelin merely scoffed at Erol, and began to walk away. When she reached the elevator door she turned back around and said, "Looks can be deceiving."

But as Erol made his way to the dining room minutes later and took his usual place at the dinner table, he still could not understand where Ashelin was coming from. Whenever he tried to lean across the table and ask her more information, she merely avoided his eye and would not answer. Deciding that she was only doing this because she'd realised she was wrong and was now embarrassed about her mistakes, Erol gave up on her. He could not silence, however, a small voice in the back of his mind, which kept telling him that Ashelin was right about Mother Praxis.

This nagging thought only amplified when Mother Praxis sat down between him and Praxis and immediately began shovelling copious amounts of food onto her plate. Erol watched in fear for a moment before he shook his head wildly and regained himself.

'So what, she eats a lot,' Erol mentally scolded, 'she's a large woman; that doesn't automatically make her evil.' He then busied himself by scooping mashed potato onto his own plate and forgot about his suspicions for a while.

By the time everyone along the massive table had filled their plates nicely (Kor, Torn, Damas and Vin teaming up to 'poison check' everything before they ate), a nice murmur of separate conversations had broken out and Erol became too distracted listening to everyone else's gossip to spare a thought for Mother Praxis. Everything was very pleasant and lively along the table for the next few minutes, but all that changed when Samos randomly declared, at full volume, that the lettuce had been mistreated as a seedling and immediately ceased eating. Jinx and Jak screamed shotgun and their forks battled to get to Samos' plate first. Ironically enough the lettuce - the thing Samos had stopped eating because of - was the only thing left by the time Jinx and Jak were through.

An awkward silence had descended upon everyone else along the table, made worse when the two Sigs suddenly started arguing vigorously about what time they had to pick up their laundry the next day. Not wanting to be any part of this argument when Krew's Sig suddenly remembered that they'd put something red with their white clothes (and Damas started ranting about a theory he had where pink underwear actually warded off desert marauders), Erol tuned out and concentrated instead on his plate of food.

But it was within this moment of attempted concentration on his food that Erol started to notice some rather sinister behaviour emitting from Mother Praxis. While everyone else seemed preoccupied with the arguing Sigs, Mother Praxis was doing the shifty eye and swiping food from other people's plates. Praxis was watching her with awe as she managed to steal a roast potato, six plates away, without its original owner even noticing. Erol again forced himself to keep cool, reminding himself that Praxis would've had to have learnt his food swiping from _somewhere_. As long as it was only a few bits of food here and there Erol supposed he could learn to ignore it.

The Commander turned back to his food and began forking a piece of broccoli lazily. He turned away for a moment to look down the length of people as one of the Sigs began beating his fist angrily on the table in some form of protest, and when Erol turned back to his plate he realised something shocking. Everything, even his napkin and glass of milk, was gone. All that remained was the piece of broccoli that he'd been poking with his fork. A closer look even alerted Erol that his plate had been _licked clean_ of traces of food-smudge.

Confused beyond reasoning, Erol looked around as though expecting to see his food running out the door on freshly sprouted legs. When he saw no trace of it all anywhere along the table or in the room, he sent Ashelin a pleadingly puzzled look. She merely raised her eyebrows at him and turned away as if to say "I told you so". Not wanting his woes to be true, Erol desperately bent down and began looking under the table for his food, trying to convince himself that he'd just clumsily spilled his plate while he was distracted. When he came back up after a fruitless search, his piece of broccoli had vanished too. To make matters worse, his fork looked sparkling clean as though it had been sucked on. Feeling rather disturbed, Erol gave up on eating and simply sat in silence, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach.

As time progressed and as Mother Praxis seemed to become more comfortable, Erol began to see more and more of Praxis shining through in her. She'd become more brave in terms of pinching food and had rather openly tried to snatch Vin's slice of Yorkshire pudding (despite the fact that he'd been saving it till last as his favourite morsel of food). When Vin whimpered in protest, Mother Praxis snorted so aggressively in his face that his goggles fogged up. Torn did not appreciate this form of behaviour directed at defenceless Vin and immediately stood up in a rage, glowering at Mother Praxis as a string of insults flew from his mouth.

Mother Praxis set her beady eyes on Torn instead and stood up too, she let out a man-like roar of gibberish that silenced Torn for a moment, a look of confusion coming over his face. When Torn finally regained himself and began to yell louder at Praxis' Mother, she retaliated by picking up her fork, stabbing it into a particularly large potato and hurling both at the befuddled Torn. Torn ducked and narrowly missed the potato, but accidentally nudged Keira next to him, who in turn jumped and kicked Jak in the shin from under the table. Yelping in pain and sudden fright, Jak too attempted to jump but got caught under the table and his chair began to fall backwards whilst he was sitting in it. He flailed his arms out to try and grab something, but only managed to smack Samos in the face blindly a few times.

Samos then angrily began waving his stick around. Daxter and Tess managed to duck and miss the wild swings but Kleiver was not so fortunate and got smacked in the face by Samos' staff. Angry and in pain, Kleiver jumped up with such a force that the whole table shook. Two seats down Seem lost control of the tomato sauce bottle she was squeezing due to the rumbling table and accidentally sprayed sauce into Pecker's face, a seat down and across from her. Pecker screeched in protest and flapped his wings about madly to get sauce from out his eyes. His flapping wings made a painful connection with Razer's ribs which caused him to spit his lit cigarette from his mouth. The cigarette catapulted across the table and flew into a slim crack in UR86's body.

Smoke began to billow from the inside of the robot's body and a few small flames began to peek out of his joints. In a mad panic to save himself, UR86 leaned over and fumbled madly to open his fuel tank. A gush of burning hot oil drained from his body into the lap of an unsuspecting Kor, who, upon realizing a moment later what was happening, let out a scream of disapproval before turning into his Metal Head self as though acting on an uncontrollable impulse. He knocked the table over and trampled all the food as he swung his tail around frightfully. In his mad panic, Kor collected Brutter on his long tail and then took flight, howling loudly as he broke a hole in the Dining Room wall trying to escape. Everyone else watched on in horror as Kor flew over the city and off into the distance, screeching loudly while Brutter waved merrily from the monster's tail.

As the dust cleared inside the room, Erol was flabbergasted in his spot as it dawned on him:

Mother Praxis had been the cause of _all _that damage...

He only snapped out of his fear-struck state to the sound of the two Sigs cheering in victory and high-fiving at being one of the few people who avoided any damage from the chain-reaction of destruction (which was even more 'epic' when you look it as though 'Sig' had 'double' the probability of getting sucked into the chain than the others at the table had).

Dinner, quite obviously, was cancelled after this and the remaining guests were left to their own devices. Many went to their rooms in the hopes that if they fell asleep fast then morning would come sooner and they would be allowed to leave, free of this nightmare. The rest, such as Kleiver and Krew, remained dawdling about the place. Watching the duo closely, Erol noticed, rather sickeningly, that they seemed to be trying to get Mother Praxis' attention as they followed her and Praxis about. Deciding that he couldn't stomach much more of such behaviour, Erol went off to bed himself and within minutes felt himself drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Erol was racing. He was zooming through the Haven city streets, the sound of his cruiser comforting as he left his competitors in the dust. Rounding a corner, the wind whipped around his hair pleasantly. He was mere metres away from the finish line with victory in his grasp, when suddenly; out of nowhere, a loud bellow erupted in the distance. Erol groaned and rolled over, refusing to become distracted by this horrible noise. He turned back to the finish line, but he'd lost speed and it felt as though he was further from it then ever. The line kept getting further and further away and Erol couldn't reach it.

Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, a loud rumble erupted, pounding, thumping – like a hoon listening to rap in the distance. It came closer and closer until finally, with an explosion of concrete and dust an elephant came charging through a solid wall. Erol yelled and lurched forwards, blood throbbing in his ears as everything became dark.

It took the Commander a few minutes to take in where he was, slowly realising he was safely in his bed. His dream fast becoming a distant memory, Erol pondered on what those noises had been and was shocked to realise that even as he sat there, trying to figure this out, there was a loud, unlawful wailing sound coming from right beside him.

Screaming loudly, all signs of sleep gone, Erol leapt from his bed and scrambled to the side of the room where he flipped on the lights. Upon seeing what was creating the ruckus, Erol calmed down for only a minute before he realised that technically he still had a big problem.

"COMMANDER!" Praxis wailed, curling up tighter in Erol's bed and squeezing his pillow so forcefully that stuffing started to burst out of it. "Commander, it was horrible!" Praxis continued to cry. Erol looked about nervously for a moment before he slowly approached his bed.

"Uh..._what _was horrible, Sir?" Erol asked cautiously, watching on in partial disgust as Praxis soaked his sheets in tears.

"It was _mother_! She...she said...she said I was a disgrace to the Praxis clan of Praxis! She called me _soft_!" Praxis wailed horribly, blowing his nose dramatically on Erol's pillow. Erol grimaced at this, making a mental note to burn his bedding later.

"Um...o...kay..." Erol mumbled, unsure of how to handle such a situation as Praxis being called 'soft'. "Well...uh...why don't you...go ask the cook for some ice-cream? That usually cheers you up," Erol shrugged, wanting nothing more than to get Praxis out of his room ASAP. But his words only seemed to make Praxis more emotional.

"But _mother_ said _she_ was going to the kitchen!" Praxis screamed in horror, curling up even more. Erol sighed in defeat. Comforting Praxis didn't seem like a wise thing to do in case he made the situation so worse that it resulted in a collaborative rampage between the Baron and Mother Praxis. With this in mind and tiredness seeping back in, Erol had no choice but to turn off the lights again and crawl into bed. He teetered on the very edge of his double bed, feeling as though he would roll into the ditch in the mattress that Praxis was creating at any given moment. Praxis' sobbing continued later and later into the night and soon it lulled Erol back to sleep, inviting him back into the city streets where he was again free on his cruiser.

* * *

**Bijoux: I wonder how many people will be getting nightmares from this? Oh well, as long as no one wakes up with a sobbing Baron in their bed... **

**Part two will be up sometime over the next few days. Thanks for reading, hopefully everyone enjoyed XD Reviews are greatly appreciated :D**


	43. Mama Praxis PT2

**Bijoux: Here is part two of Mama Praxis, sorry for the wait. A big thank you to everyone that read and reviewed the last chapter :D**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners. **

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* * *

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**Palace Stories - Yo Mama Exaggerated It**

**Mama Praxis**

**Part Two**

* * *

Erol discovered the next morning that there truly was no one in the world quite as forgiving as your mother. Mother Praxis had gone out of her way to find her emotional son the next day and had promptly told him that it wasn't _his _fault he was soft and that _she _should've taught him better when he was growing up. A touching reunion then occurred in the hallway outside Erol's bedroom and all seemed swell once more.

Ah, if only the Commander was capable of predicting what was bound to come next...

The predicament of this story reared its ugly head during breakfast. Erol was once more seated next to Mother Praxis and, upon realising that she seemed to have better control over her Praxis like ways then what her son did, Erol decided he'd try and make small talk with her.

"So uh...Mother Praxis," he began politely, watching as Mother Praxis stuffed 7 consecutive pancakes into her mouth while Praxis watched her in mystified fascination. "Is there...perhaps another name I should be calling you instead?" Erol enquired.

"Mumaxis," Mother Praxis replied through a mouthful of second-hand Torn pancake. Erol frowned at this name for a moment before making a noise of interest and averting his attention to something else.

"Everyone in our family has axis on the end of their name," Praxis declared merrily. He then turned darkly to Ashelin as though disappointed, "Except for _you _that is. _I _was going to call you Ashlaxis," Praxis alleged proudly, Ashelin looking suddenly put-off. "But that blasted Femaxis got _her _way..." he murmured grumpily.

Praxis' explanation of his family's names and the mentioning of _Femaxis_ struck a horrible thought into Erol's head that he tried hard not to think about.

"So uh...is your husband's name Dadaxis? Or..." Erol asked conversationally. Praxis suddenly scowled at Erol as though someone had put something smelly under his nose.

"NO!" Praxis spat angrily. "His name his _Fataxis_!" he said protectively.

"Oh, as in Father Praxis?" Erol posed confidently.

"Wha...?" Praxis replied, looking suddenly perplexed.

The conversation fell apart following this and talk only resumed when Mumaxis and Praxis stood up several helpings later.

"Are you ready son?" Mumaxis asked as the two made way for the door. Erol perked up as Praxis replied with a "yes mummy".

"Uh, where are you two going exactly?" Erol hurried to ask. "Err...if you...you know, don't mind letting me know?" he hurried to add as Mumaxis and Praxis turned to glare at him.

"Mummy is taking me out to teach me the _real _ways of the Praxis clan!" Praxis explained heroically. And without further ado the two large relatives waddled from the room, both of them narrowly missing getting stuck in the doorway together.

Once they were out of earshot, Ashelin suddenly grabbed Erol by the collar and pulled him to his feet forcefully, a dangerous look on her face.

"Why did you just let them go?" she growled angrily.

"Wha-what? Since when was keeping your Father in line _my _job?" Erol protested irritably. Ashelin let him go following this and grabbed Veger, who was trying to eat in peace now that the opportunity had arisen. Ashelin directed both Erol and Veger down the stairs, sneaking around after Praxis and his mother. When they reached the foyer they noticed a large percentage of their guests were massing at the doors. Apparently they'd gotten wind that the doors would finally be unlocked soon and that they'd therefore be free.

When Praxis waddled up to the large entrance and deactivated the lock, the doors creaked open and there was a mad rush of panic as people ran yelling and cheering from the Palace, flooding into the city streets and drawing attention to themselves. Ashelin, Erol and Veger hurried to meld in with this crowd far enough until they could hide in some nearby bushes outside the Palace. They watched intently as Praxis and his mother then waddled from the room and down the stairs. They made a beeline for Praxis' custom hellcat. Ashelin cursed viciously as Praxis and Mumaxis sped off into the distance.

"Um...why are you panicking again? Think Ashelin, we'll have a day free of Praxis..." Veger shrugged, daydreaming of his half eaten breakfast back up in the dining room.

"Oh yeah, _sure_ Veger," Ashelin spat sarcastically. "Let's just allow Father and Grandma to waltz out into the city and commit 'Barony' wherever they please! Good idea!" she snapped, glowering at Veger. "Honestly, don't either of you _think_? If she's taking father out to teach him how to be a _proper _Praxis, then he'll be terrorising the city all day! Not to mention the damage she'll do on her own. If we allow such a thing to go on, unsupervised, then there won't be any city left for me to inherit!" Ashelin growled exasperatedly.

Erol weighed all this up for a moment and decided Ashelin was right.

"But I don't think we're welcome to this party, Ashelin," Erol sighed. "You saw the way they glared at me when I merely asked about their plans," he continued, shaking his head glumly.

"That's true...we'll have to go incognito, follow them from a distance and only step in if things get too hairy..." Ashelin agreed, a hint of negativity in her voice.

"Well have to steal a vehicle then," Erol declared. He surveyed the passing motorists for a minute or so, then looked around the immediate area, hoping he wouldn't have to take a vehicle by force. The Commander spotted a nice looking, purple, four seater zoomer a few metres away whilst scanning the area. "Come on," he whispered, pointing to it, "Act natural".

But none of the three had ever really been natural, nor had they ever truly experienced the essence of good acting, so when it came to approaching the hellcat quietly it could only be guaranteed that they'd fail.

"Oh my! Would you look at that, Veger? A zoomer, parked in the street!"

"Oh! How uncanny that be, what say you of this, Ashelin?"

"Uh...uh...LINE?"

"Oh forget it, just get in!"

And after several frantic seconds of screaming, cursing and unexplained flailing, the trio had piled into the hellcat moderately _not_ unnoticed. Apparently thinking the art of stealing a vehicle (come on, Jak does it all the time) was much like escaping the scene of a bank heist, Ashelin began banging her fists onto the dashboard frantically, screaming at Erol to 'Go, go, go!'. When it was finally pointed out to her that she was in fact the one in the driver's seat, she chuckled casually at her own ignorance then revved the engine.

But in a cloud of black smoke, accompanied by a loud bang, it became apparent just why the zoomer had been left there, key still in the ignition. Six times Ashelin tried to spur the engine to life, but it only spluttered and died every time. Finally, after twenty minutes of this (it seems that they forgot the urgency of the situation) they did the smartest thing they could: they pushed the zoomer to the closest mechanic i.e. Keira at the Stadium.

It left one to wonder why the trio didn't just opt to steal the perfectly fine zoomer several feet away from this bomby one instead. It left one to wonder why they didn't just steal one of the hundreds of parked ones they passed on the way to the Stadium. The only explanation I can offer is that Praxis needs a head start for this story to truly work...

And WHAT a head start! It was nearly three and a half hours later by the time the trio were on the road. They were now riding in a maroon, four seater zoomer instead as Ashelin, who had been driving the other (newly fixed) one, had got distracted when they drove past a sign for a boot sale and had ploughed it into a wall. This little mishap alone set them back an extra 10 minutes as Veger had been too lazy to acquire 'Invulnerability' by this stage and had to be reborn back at the Stadium. Four arguments later (one involving Krew who had not indicated when he merged into the trio's line of traffic), Erol, Ashelin and Veger were finally back on track.

"Okay," Erol sighed from the driver's seat, "Does anyone have any idea where Praxis might be?"

"McDonalds."

"McDonalds."

"The Public Pool."

"Alright, so that's three for McDonalds, one for- wait, JAK?" Erol yelled with horror, turning his head to discover that Jak was in fact in the back seat with Veger. "When, why and _how _are you here?" Erol asked, his voice exasperated. But Jak merely shrugged and Erol was left to come to his own conclusion about what had happened. Perhaps _this_ had been why his guards had just been running around frantically in circles screaming the same repetitive lines over and over again, and why the slow, sombre music that constantly played in the background of their lives had been more electrifying a moment ago...

"What makes you think father is at the pool?" Ashelin asked suspiciously.

"He doesn't," Erol rolled his eyes, "He probably just wants a lift there so he can fill the pool with jelly crystals like he did last week. I'm not falling for that one again, Jak."

And with that the subject was dropped and the group headed for the closest McDonalds. The sight they met when they reached one in the Industrial Section was the product of nightmares. People lay scattered in the parking lot, covered in, what could be only be presumed under this rating, tomato sauce. Groans were issuing from each way and children were screaming. A man was on his knees to Veger's left yelling 'why?' as he cradled a milkshake cup, that had clearly been stepped on by something large, in his arms. The windows of the restaurant were broken, shards of glass all over the pavement.

"What happened here?" Ashelin asked no one in particular, but someone answered. A crumpled young man mustered some strength to sit up, a plastic straw somehow impaled into his forehead.

"It...it was horrible..." he croaked, fingering his straw idly as if hoping someone would see it and compliment how it looked on him. "Baron Praxis...his mother...belching! Thred couldn't move out the way in time...he couldn't find 50 cents to pay for his meal fast enough...Mama Praxis she...she _belched _him out the way!" he cried dramatically, pointing a short distance away where the supposed 'Thred' lay, face down on the pavement, his hand still in his pocket; frozen in time searching for that fabled 50 cents.

Erol was unsure of how you could _belch _someone out the way, let alone with enough force to lift them into the air and throw them some 25 metres away, and he tried to block out such questions as he was sure his stomach would not be able to handle the imagery. He busied himself instead with strolling towards the entrance to the McDonalds. The doors had been blown off their hinges and lay twisted and mangled across the street. Perhaps they had not automatically opened fast enough for Mama Praxis' liking?

The inside of the restaurant looked as though a bomb had gone off. The tables and chairs were all burnt to charcoal, electrical wire dangled from the ceiling, sparking dangerously, food was splattered all over the walls and the bins were all overturned, bleeding out garbage onto the floor. Erol approached the counter slowly, noticing that the pimply teen that usually manned the cash register was still there, his body unmarred though he looked utterly horrified.

"How exactly did all this happen?" Erol asked him, sensing Ashelin, Veger and Jak approaching from behind to join him.

"It...it was horrible, dude," the pimply teen stuttered. "Praxis he...his mother...she was teaching him something...queue...queue eradicating, she called it. She belched people 6 feet into the air, scratched her butt with a fork and screamed out spoilers to all our favourite TV shows and movies! It was horrible!" the teen wailed, breaking down. Luckily another one appeared from the kitchens to take over.

"When she finally reached the front of the line, she tried to teach Praxis something else. She wanted him to order something we didn't sell, to confuse us!" the second teen declared.

"She said it was designed to instil fear into us, so we'd respect him better!" the first teen sobbed.

"Praxis tried to do it, but every time he just...he just couldn't! He became possessed, mesmerised by our menu! He wouldn't stop ordering food we actually sell!" the second teen cried.

"She got mad, really mad and decided to do the deed herself...and...no...I can't go on!" the first teen screamed horrifically, clutching his head in terror.

"She...she ordered..." the second teen stuttered nervously doing a shifty eye and looking as though he was about to admit to something highly embarrassing. "She ordered..._Popcorn Chicken_..." he finally whispered in dismay.

"WHAT THE HELL IS _THAT_? Oh god!" the first teen howled dramatically, tears spilling down his pimpled face.

"To make matters worse, she...she demanded that it be accompanied by a baby wipe in a little red and white package with a picture of an old man on it!" the second teen continued.

"I CAN'T EVEN IMAGINE WHAT THAT WOULD _LOOK _LIKE!" teen number one screamed, banging his head onto the counter following this outburst. By this stage the second teen had started bawling his eyes out too and it was decided (by an awkward looking Erol), that it was time to leave.

Sighing in partial defeat, everyone climbed back into the zoomer and sped off in search of the Baron once more. But where oh where could he have got to by now?

* * *

Praxis' day had been going smoothly. His dearest mother had taught him so much in the time they'd spent together – queue eradicating, how to instil fear into restaurants, how to better smell panic, expert belching, maniacal raving (much like incoherent raving to the Praxises of today, maniacal raving was the ancient tongue spoken by Praxises of the past), and finally, perhaps most important of all, what music went best with a herd of screaming people running around with their hands above their heads.

But as has already been stated, the day HAD been going well. That was, of course, before _he _showed up. That damn Kleiver. He'd reared his ugly head sometime during belching lessons which was bad enough, but then he sneaked a can of Pepsi into his system when Mama Praxis wasn't looking and managed to upstage Praxis with an awe inspiring belch – one that, in Mama Praxis' words, was far better than the 'baby hiccoughs' that her son had been producing. Praxis tried to call Kleiver out on his cheating ways but his mother would not hear of it, scolding Praxis for his jealous ways and threatening to confiscate his mini-play oven if he didn't apologise. Since that point, Kleiver had been hanging around like a bad smell (which, ironically, he sort of was). He'd cramped Praxis' style during the lessons on maniacal raving and rampage music (impressing Mama Praxis when he suggested Hannah Montana's 'See You Again' to be played).

To make matters potentially worse they'd recently attained a rather clingy Krew, who complained about three hippies trying to run him off the road earlier that day, before he began to flirt with Mama Praxis from his position hovering alongside Praxis' moving Hellcat. Kleiver, who was travelling on the other side of the Hellcat atop a rather unstable looking violet zoomer, glared menacingly at Krew, growling deep in his throat whenever Mama Praxis chortled playfully. Praxis seemed to be harbouring a level of disliking akin to Kleiver's, his knuckles turning dead white, his teeth gritted and his shoulders hunched as he stole agitated looks in Krew's direction. Pushing his large foot harder onto the accelerator solved the problem for a mere few minutes before it prompted Krew to grab onto the side of the vehicle with his chubby hand. The vehicle slowed down considerably thanks to the newly added weight and Praxis, now growing aware that he was inadvertently paying for Krew's next fuel refill, didn't help the situation at all.

Now, everyone knows that three large, jealous men is all you need when hoping to cook up a disaster, so it was really no surprise when Praxis reached breaking point, veering ever so slowly into Kleiver's direction before violently spinning the steering wheel back around, the Hellcat hurling itself into Krew and causing him to rocket some 10 metres away where he collided with a wall and exploded.

With Krew's presence eradicated for the time being, Kleiver went back to smiling big-headedly. Mama Praxis seemed somewhat unsure of what exactly had happened, but said nothing to question it. Praxis seemed to be the only one who showed no change in demeanour. He seemingly had asked himself why stop with just getting rid of Krew? And within a minute or two he'd launched the exact same attack on Kleiver, who was forced to swerve out of harm's way so suddenly that he veered into oncoming traffic and wasn't heard from again.

Grateful to have his mother all to himself again, Praxis continued on his way to their next destination – the Slums. According to Mama Praxis, it was the ideal spot for their next lesson, which happened to be all about Bottling Panic. Bottling Panic had been listed as a 'must have' for every Praxis. It allowed for the tasty, tasty emotion to be saved for later to perhaps be used as a pick me up or maybe to even be added to a meal for extra flavour. So, parking next to one of the tatty buildings and relishing in the screams of horror already going off in the immediate area, Praxis waited for instruction from his mother.

The process of bottling the delicious panic that the slum-people were already starting to secrete was quite simple really. First you opened your bottle (Praxis had the most trouble with this step), next you rounded up 4 to 5 panic-ers into a group, next you chased after them brandishing your bottle (neck first) backwards and forwards in a swiping motion in the space between you and the 'herd'. Better panic could be collected by waving your bottle over the heads of the herd instead, but this task was obviously harder because you had to be taller than them all (which Praxis clearly was) and also as fit as them (which Praxis clearly wasn't).

Despite panic being dead invisible, Mama Praxis _knew _exactly when Praxis' small bottle was full and scolded him profusely when her son accidentally filled it with too much panic, causing it to overflow and spill over the edge. Praxis licked his fingers eagerly to clean the invisible mess, got a taste for it, then sculled his entire bottle in a heartbeat. His mother was rather disappointed in him and was just about to scold him some more when suddenly Praxis belched in triumph over his 'meal'.

And as it had become a habit of Praxis' larger belches in the past few weeks, a swirling portal appeared before them. Mama Praxis wiped a tear of joy from her eye and made a move to congratulate her son, but stopped dead in her tracks when suddenly something started moving through the portal.

Praxis' eye narrowed, his brow furrowed, his teeth gritted and if he'd been capable of it his nostrils would have flared. Whatever was coming through that portal, Praxis seemed to know exactly what it was and he didn't like it in the least. It started off as a large balloon like object, cream in colour.

The creamy balloon protruded for what felt like miles as it extended its way out of the portal. Another shapely blob then formed on Praxis' side of the portal; it appeared to be a hairy, very familiar leg. Another round blob appeared at the top of the portal, curtained by golden locks. The figure stepped completely out of the portal, a few Wiggles brand bandaids here and there on its body and a triumphant smirk on its face.

"G'Day mates! I was lookin' for you!" it spoke.

"_Kleiver_..." Praxis hissed menacingly. Oh yes, it seemed as though "Australia" once more just didn't know when to quit. Once more it was guilty of not knowing when to draw the line and go home, not knowing when to say enough was enough, unable to stop itself from terrorising the rest of the world. Kleiver was the image of such behaviour. It seemed as though trying to kill him just wasn't enough to drum into Kleiver's head why he should leave Praxis be.

Oh well, Praxis would just have to try a little harder in future...

* * *

Torn wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. The four squabbling idiots in the passenger seats just wouldn't shut up. They'd been at it for nearly twenty minutes now, arguing where that oaf could've gotten too.

And to think, he'd merely been going to the supermarket to restock the Underground's food supply when suddenly, whilst he was piling his bags into his boot, these all too familiar morons started climbing into his car-zoomer, arguing all the while. He'd tried to intervene, demand what they thought they were doing, and even attempted to shoo(t) them out of his zoomer, but alas he met no success.

Now he was stuck with them, unable to get them out of his vehicle. He wondered briefly why they didn't just go find their _own_ zoomer, but got the impression that the dirty looks directed at one blonde moron in particular, and the charcoaled heap laying next a wall some few metres away, had something to do with it, so he hadn't bothered asking. Not that they would've stopped to listen to him anyway. Since they'd arrived it was as though they hadn't even noticed Torn's presence. Quite funny considering they'd all climbed into his car like that...

But something bothered him about their mindless quarrelling. Praxis' name kept popping up accompanied by scattered mentioning's of 'rampage', 'city', 'destruction', 'doom', 'collapse', 'death', 'mother' and, perhaps most horrible of all, 'training bra'. So, throwing the safety of his groceries to the wind, Torn went out on a whim to try and decipher some of the arguments (which was hard considering everyone seemed to be talking all at once), and began heading to the places mentioned. The trouble was, however, that as soon as he had picked up one place, someone else spat out another spot. The second option, of course, always sounded more appealing than the first, so switch routes Torn would.

The Underground leader was certain he'd never hear the end of it, fast realizing that he would probably be stuck listening to the angry rambles of these idiots for the rest of the day (and maybe the next day too). Such a thought was frightening to Torn and he cursed that hideous Praxis for being the cause of yet another ruined day. To make matters worse, Jak had somehow torn a hole into the padding of the backseat and was eating all of Torn's freshly stocked food. The fact of the matter was that Jak would probably end up eating it all anyway once it was stocked in the Underground fridge, but still, it was a big blow to Torn's pride if he couldn't even escort a tub of yoghurt halfway across the city without it being 'assassinated'.

Torn began to slip into a dangerous state of mind; blood beginning to boil, sweat forming on his face, teeth clenching and grinding against each other and a large vein popping out of his head – oh how it would not end well.

"STOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!" Torn yelled, suddenly infuriated. He slammed on the brakes, the zoomer making a loud screeching noise as it suddenly stopped. Everyone made noises of surprise, flew forwards slightly and consequently stopped arguing. But Torn had stopped in the middle of the path of traffic and it wasn't long before some screaming idiot on a one seater wasn't able to brake in time, and thus went crashing into the back of Torn's zoomer.

The boot became crumpled and flung open, Torn's remaining shopping flying all over the place and exploded as it landed on the ground 15 feet below. An awkward silence lingered around the vicinity after that (bar a few citizens who began running around screaming, worried that the exposed food would attract their leader).

Erol wasn't quite sure what to say, nor was he completely certain that he would be heard over Torn's loud breathing anyway. He sent a worried look to Ashelin in the backseat, who in turn shrugged.

"One. At. A. TIME!" Torn roared, his face wide eyed and crazy, staring directly ahead of himself. "EROL?" Torn yelled, not turning to face the man on his left.

"Uh...I think he's in the Slums, I heard chaos coming from there earlier!" Erol shakily explained.

"ASHELIN?"

"Where's the most obvious place? We should scour _ALL _the McDonalds outlets in the city!" Ashelin protested.

"VEGER?"

"We've been driving around for hours with no sign of him. He's probably in Spargus by now!" Veger drawled, sounding exasperated.

"JAK?"

"Uh...uh...THE SWIMMING POOL!" Jak panicked.

"What? For the last time, Jak, why the hell would he be _there_?" Erol scolded, obviously annoyed beyond reason.

But before anyone else could add to the uncanniness of such a suggestion, or before Jak could protest back, the zoomer slowly began to move forwards. Torn, still stick-straight and stiff, had gently nudged his foot onto the accelerator and the group was off moving at a lightning speed of 2 km per hour.

An hour and a half later, travelling at the same speed, Torn pulled into what was perhaps the most unlikely option of the three he'd been provided. No one quite knew why he'd listened to _Jak's _suggestion, but one could only assume it had something to do with wanting to get rid of the said hero (perhaps because he kept asking every three seconds whether 'they were there yet' and spitting yoghurt into the back of Torn's head in the process). Alas Erol, Ashelin and Veger piled out of the car with the intention of checking the place out.

As soon as the trio walked into the gates of the pool (accompanied by an agitated looking Torn and a confused looking Jak who kept asking why they'd come _here _of all places) they were met with a horrible sight. Mama Praxis in a flowery shower-cap and bikini...but then she turned around and it was actually just Praxis wearing that stuff. Not wishing to be spotted by the Baron, everyone darted into some nearby bushes and spied on his next move.

Erol wasn't actually sure what he should be more disturbed over; the fact that Praxis was in a pink bikini, the fact that Mumaxis was with him wearing an old fashioned striped one-piece, or the fact that Jak, _had in fact_, been right about this all along. While he was weighing up all these options, the decision was however planted right in Erol's line of sight. And the answer to his question was – undoubtedly - Kleiver, who was strutting along the edge of the pool wearing the bizarre combination of a bright red g-string, and a straw hat with a novelty flower glued to its rim. Shuddering from the horrible sight, Erol heard Ashelin whisper 'what are they doing here?' close by.

"Let the terror commence!" Mumaxis suddenly bellowed from next to the pool's 25 metre high diving-board. Excitedly Praxis turned to face his dear mother and hurried to waddle in her direction, but just as he was about to start climbing the ladder up the to the diving-board, Kleiver bellied him out of the way and began to heave his weight up the ladder instead.

"Mummy!" Praxis protested, but it appeared that Mumaxis had not seen Kleiver's misdeed and hushed her son immediately. It took the hefty blonde roughly a minute to ascend to the diving-board, his large backside swaying majestically and creating a threatening shadow to anyone in the pool below who was unfortunate (or perhaps actually _lucky _enough) to see it. When Kleiver reached the very top he straightened himself, scratching his backside idly as he waddled to the very end of the board. Once there, he bounced a few times on his hairy toes, outstretching his arms, before finally taking a huge leap off the board. In mid-air Kleiver curled his knees up to his chest and secured them there with his arms, a comical whistling noise sounding out over the pool as he spun around a few times.

Suddenly, as a large shadow swallowed nearly half of the pool's deep end, it became pandemonium. People were screaming and swimming for their lives, floaties, inflatable tubes, goggles and old people left abandoned as an age of doom descended upon the pool. But even the people who had started to swim for the sides or the shallow end early had no hope of survival, for when Kleiver finally collided with the surface of the water, the splash was so intense that it created a tidal wave that pushed everyone into the sides of the pool rather violently and on the rebound it even managed to drag a few people back into the water from the outside. To make matters worse, this wave somehow manifested into a water spout, which terrorised the pool-goers for a further ten minutes until it mingled dangerously close to the toxic smog hovering over Haven City and evolved into a tornado, which in turn made a quick exit from the pool site and went off destroying other parts of the city instead.

By the time all of this had taken place, Kleiver had somehow clambered out of the drought stricken pool, now filled with the sounds of groans and moans of pain, and was making habit of flirting with Mumaxis. Praxis glowered as his mother giggled suggestively to a comment about breaking the impact of the dive with Kleiver's backside.

It took nearly half an hour for the pool to be refilled with water, the groaning bodies moved aside with aid from a pool skimmer, only to be replaced with new families, oblivious to what had just happened and the danger that they were now in. Praxis was eager to make his mother proud this time, annoyed that Kleiver still had not relented from telling his dramatic re-enactment of the dive, which in itself had started to become further and further from the truth every time it was told. The large Wastelander had just finished telling the tale for the 18th time (which included alien presidents instructing him to leap out of an aircraft in outer space and pinpoint the exact spot to bomb-dive into the pool which would assassinate a vacationing Jenny Craig), when Praxis interrupted.

"Mummy! Mummy!" he chimed excitedly, hopping from foot to foot and pointing at the diving tower behind him. When Mumaxis turned to look expectantly, Praxis hurried over to the ladder, pushing several small children out the way with his large backside, before beginning his long journey up to the diving-board.

Johnny Brad was a sad child. His parents worked from nine to five everyday and never really had time for him. So when a tornado ripped through their place of business it was actually a blessing in disguise as his parents had been forced to come home earlier than usual and had consequently decided to take their young son to the pool. And ah, what a glorious time he was having so far! Climbing to the top of the diving board was a wondrous adventure for little Johnny, he was nearly at the top and it was fun, exciting, majestic, satisfying, but most of all it was-OH GOD! WHAT THE HELL IS _THAT_?

"Outta my way, you stupid kid!" Praxis raved angrily, infuriated that someone dare be on their way to the top of the board before him. The child screamed fearfully, scrambling to climb as fast as he could. He reached the top of the board, but Praxis was hot on his heels and before little Johnny had time to leap to safety, the bulky Baron had collected the child in his rolls of fat and had launched himself off the board.

Johnny screamed, trying to break-free though failing when he found himself tangled in Praxis' bikini top. The boy became even more tangled and therefore mangled as Praxis curled himself into appropriate position. Much like the second half of Kleiver's dive, the people in the pool suddenly became aware of the big black shadow encasing them and began screaming and flailing their arms and legs to get out of the way.

Praxis' dive ended in a spectacular splash that would have made any other large man envious, with water spilling over the edges of the pool from every direction, but it was just nothing compared to Kleiver's earlier work. But as Praxis clambered from the pool looking somber about this fact, his mother complimented the way he'd collected 'that innocent child' and applauded his efforts nonetheless.

This raised Praxis' mood considerably, and he began strutting around boldly (still hosting an unconscious Johnny Brad tangled up in his bikini bra), but in turn left a bitter taste in Kleiver's mouth.

"OH YEAH?" the Wastelander growled, attracting Praxis' and Mumaxis' attention, "I can do better!" and with that he bounded towards the diving tower again, gathering small, screaming children into his arms along the way. With six squirming, crying kids tucked under his arms (and one unfortunate enough to be half stuffed down the back of Kleiver's g-string) Kleiver awkwardly climbed to the top of the ladder. He bounded energetically to the end of the board and hurled himself off the edge.

Mumaxis gasped in awe and shed a tear of joy at the sight, but Praxis on the other hand became very annoyed, roaring in protest as he rushed to the side of the pool closest to the tower. He mustered all the strength in his stomach, letting rip one badass belch that echoed across the pool, sending ripples across the surface of the water and managing to open up a large spiralling portal directly underneath Kleiver.

Kleiver barely had time to register what was happening before he flew through the portal and disappeared from view, taking along the children he'd abducted too. Praxis dusted his hands off heroically after achieving this, relishing the praise his mother began to pour onto him and the sounds of many parents screaming in horror as their children vanished into thin air.

Apparently gaining strength and confidence from all this, Praxis raced over to the nearby miniscule pool canteen, roaring proudly that he wanted to order a 'KFC family bucket with extra gravy'. The old lady serving behind the counter fainted from such an overwhelming request, and Praxis bellowed in victory at his achievements, Mumaxis bawling her eyes out dramatically a few feet away.

From the safety of their bushes Erol, Ashelin, Veger and Torn decided they'd seen enough, and Jak decided that he too wanted some of that family bucket...

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**Bijoux: And there's part two. Gee, I sure hope no one's easily offended by fat men in G-Strings XD I'll try to have part three up sooner rather than later ;) Thanks for reading.**


	44. Mama Praxis PT3

**Bijoux: Specail thanks to EcoSeeker247 for reviewing the last chapter, and consequently reminding me that I hadn't put part three of Mama Praxis up yet... So here it is, the twisted finale to Mama Praxis. Hope everyone enjoys :)**

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original owners.**

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**Palace Stories – Yo Mama Exaggerated It**

**Mama Praxis**

**Part Three**

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By the time Mumaxis had cried out all her tears of joy at the pool, the sun had begun to set over Haven City, and she decided it was high-time her beloved son went home for a nap. Erol, Ashelin, Veger, Torn and Jak watched them leave and gave them a 10 minute head-start before setting off home as well.

They were expecting Mumaxis to be up and about creating terror at the Palace when they got home, but were surprised when they found the place oddly quiet and serene. Further investigation told them that Mumaxis, thank the lord, had already gone home back to dear old Fataxis, following a freak accident in which Praxis' beloved father had gotten a Kellogg's Fruit Loop stuck on his finger. To make things slightly better, Praxis was fast asleep in bed, resting off the day's excitement, so Ashelin, Erol and Veger had some peace and quiet for the rest of the night.

But come next morning, when Praxis awoke fully refreshed at a record breaking 6:30 am, it became apparent that that night of peace was surely not worth the terror that followed it. For Praxis awoke with new knowledge swimming about in his head, and by the time Erol woke up 2 hours after the Baron, half the city was in shambles. Staring out over the city streets below, Erol struggled to fathom what could have possibly happened.

The answer arrived alongside a distressed looking Ashelin, who immediately started confiding in Erol that her father wasn't in bed anymore. The thought of such a thing, combined with the flaming city below, was far from a good mixture and Erol soon found himself racing through the city streets screaming out Praxis' name alongside the word dinner in the hopes of luring the beast.

But Ashelin in the meantime, had a smarter plan. A flawless plan, an epic plan, a plan of mass destruction, a plan so creative and original that it was awe-inspiring to anyone who witnessed it; and that plan was...

"Why do you people always come here as soon as Praxis starts creating havoc? Hasn't anyone told you that this morning is shared pancake breakfast day? And I can't stay in one spot longer than 3 minutes. Heaven forbid, if Kleiver saw me and tried to offer me one of the pancakes _he _made...if they can even be labelled pancakes..." the Desert King complained, stuffing several pancakes into his face at once, before moving to the next table where he idly observed the plate of pancakes that a large, hairy and smelly Wastelander man (other than Kleiver) had made. The smelly Wastelander looked very nervous and kept wringing sweat out of his long, red beard as Damas held one of his creations up to the sky and observed it even closer.

"But Damas-" Ashelin tried to protest, but was suddenly cut off when a large, black, swirling mass appeared several feet away. Damas too, turned to watch it, his expression suggesting that he'd seen worse things in his City before. But Ashelin, who knew better, felt suddenly horrified at what would appear to be one of Praxis' portals.

"Oh no...it's Father!" Ashelin screamed in horror. Damas suddenly looked horrified, staring wide-eyed at the portal before him for a few seconds longer, before he suddenly gasped dramatically. His nostrils flared a few times, sniffing the air for something no one else seemed to be aware of over the aroma of pancakes.

"No...It's far worse than that..." he croaked, "It's...it's..._Kleiver_..." he gasped, while others around him screamed and commenced in the loveable art of fleeing the vicinity.

And Damas was right, for a second or two later, shrill screams erupted from the portal and out Kleiver flew, several smaller figures gripping onto his lard for dear life. They all landed with a loud thud onto the dirt ground, and remained rather motionless for a while, someone in the background (who was apparently in need of a pair of glasses) commenting something about a mother pig suckling it's young. Ashelin heard this strange comment and found herself fighting against her gag-reflex. She ended up losing such a battle however, when she noticed that Kleiver was still wearing that hideous g-string.

Figuring they'd been sent here via the portal Praxis had created yesterday, Ashelin wondered why it had taken them so long to reappear somewhere else. Usually Praxis' portals were instantaneous, and considering the fact that Kleiver still had the same amount of children with him, it was fairly obvious that he hadn't been travelling long enough to have grown hungry, so how this worked Ashelin was unsure. She was just laying it down to poor authoring (refusing to believe that her father had mastered time travel), when Kleiver began to stir, groaning uncomfortably and wriggling his arms and legs around.

"Let's roll..." Damas suddenly declared in a final tone.

Within a few minutes, both Ashelin and Damas had raced back to Haven city. Damas observed the destruction of the Port around him with wide eyes.

"Um...I don't recall Praxis ever being this..._deadly_..." Damas grumbled to Ashelin, watching as the crazed Baron in the distance began to chase after a fleeing crowd, a large stereo on his shoulder playing Hannah Montana music as he screamed gibberish and 'gangsta-danced' after them, a large bottle in one hand which he was waving around in amongst his dancing.

The crowd was much more animated than usual, some of them even clutching their heads, stomachs, lungs or hearts in horror, tears streaming down their faces while they begged their Baron for mercy. Usually they would just run around with their arms in the air screaming. But as Damas watched on, he could truly see where the change had come from - this Praxis was far scarier than the yelling, uncoordinated, stomping Baron he usually saw in Praxis. No...this one _knew _what he was doing.

This scared Damas, chilled him to the bone even, and it became apparent to Ashelin that perhaps this truly was the end. But then a thought came to her...if her father had grown "better" under the teachings of his mother, then maybe, just maybe, Damas could grow stronger from the teachings of one of his parents? This plan was just cliché enough to work...

"Damas, where do your parents live?" Ashelin hurried to ask, watching Praxis frantically as he chased the crowd further along the Port, some people jumping into the murky water in the hopes of saving themselves, only to be bomb-dived on moments later by the large Baron.

Damas turned to Ashelin and merely shrugged.

"Wha...what do you mean you don't know?" Ashelin yelled in confusion.

"Naughty Dog never created them..." Damas idly replied.

"Well that didn't stop Bijoux from making Father's parents!" Ashelin retorted.

"Yes, well, _of course_ that oaf's parents are going to be simple enough to create. You just take the son and add a wig. _My _parents would be much more complex creatures..." Damas declared with dignity, looking high and mighty.

Ashelin groaned and did a face-palm at this response. Hope rapidly diminishing and despair sinking in, Ashelin could only find solace in the fact that at least she would leave a 'sizzling-hawt' corpse, and that, hey, her lifelong ambition of never returning "The Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar" to the library would come true.

"Well at least I'll die doing what I love...witnessing how bad a leader Praxis truly is," Damas sighed in defeat.

Following this declaration, Ashelin broke down, her screaming and wailing soon setting off Damas like a bowl of onions would. The two of them just stood there, blubbering as screams of horror and explosions went off in the background. The world was swirling around them, falling apart at the seams, all hope was lost, everyone was going to die, and everything was going to end for them here...

"Hey Big Daddy-D, what's hangin' up in the hood?" came a cheery voice in the distance.

"Not now Jak! Can't you see I'm trying to spend my last hours dramatically?" Damas yelled angrily, before continuing his blubbering. But Ashelin did not join him this time, for suddenly a great shining light had appeared in her sights. She looked away from her father's now flaming stereo (which had caught fire due to it being quite old and quite overloaded), and hurried to scramble over to Jak.

"Jak you can do it—_YOU _can teach Damas the ways of your family!" she declared excitedly.

"What? That makes no sense! He's _my _son, remember? _I _created _him_, not the other way around!" Damas protested indignantly, marching over to Ashelin and Jak grumpily.

"True," Ashelin agreed in a smart tone. "But look at it this way Damas, if Jak truly is _the _Mar, and at some point in his life he has to go back in time to create this city and become its first leader, then that means his blood-line becomes monarchy. The very _same _monarchy that you were born into, so abiding by that logic, Jak could be your great, great, great, great grandfather!" she continued almost excitedly.

Damas and Jak stood there looking bewildered for a moment. Damas' expression gradually turned sour and he glared angrily at Ashelin.

"You've planted a horrible picture in my head that you will suffer for in the future..." he grumbled.

But nonetheless, Damas and Jak then set off for the Underground (much to Torn's horror), where the Desert King was schooled, Jak style, for the next three hours. Praxis by this stage, had chased a huge crowd of his civilians around the entire city four times, before rounding them up and into the Port where they made the mistake of diving into the water for salvation. Erol and Ashelin, who had resolved to follow the Baron to try to minimize his damage, watched on in horror as Praxis then scurried to the top of one of the two towers in the Port. He leapt off it, belly first, and plummeted into the water. The splash created by the dive was so powerful that it reached the slums and consequently swept most of the buildings away, not to mention it left the Port dry as a bone.

It was a good thing the Underground was underground for it was one of the few things that survived the Baron induced tidal wave, and within a few minutes following the disaster, the City's Hero finally emerged. Wearing a shirt and shorts that were far too big for him, sweat bands on his wrists, ankles, ears and around his head, a determined look on his face, jet-board under his arm and Torn's beloved pasta server in hand, Damas set off to do what he'd recently grown to be an expert on.

Damas took half an hour to track down the Baron in the Canals. It probably shouldn't have taken as long as it did for Damas to find Praxis, but of course the Desert King insisted on walking in a dramatic, slow-motion sort of style that Jak claimed would make him look much more heroic.

As soon as Praxis laid eyes on the approaching Damas, he stopped dead in his tracks, his new found crowd continuing to run for their lives until they were out of sight. Wind blew across the street, carrying dust and stray papers with it as Damas and Praxis locked eyes fiercely. A tense, deafening silence descended, the only sound coming from the crackle of fires around the city and the eerie distant screams of civilians.

"_Damas_..." Praxis hissed, his eye narrowing. Damas said nothing for a moment, simply cleared his throat and continued to stare down his rival. When the King finally did speak his words were full of untold wisdom...

"Yo Daddy-P, don't go gettin' all up in ma grill!" Damas yelled sternly, doing gangsta hand movements in time with his words. Praxis took a step back, his expression flashed a terrified look for a mere second, before returning to looking firm. The Baron's single eye looked curious; it was a worried sort of curious that betrayed the rest of his expression, but explained the small shivers that seemed to be going down the Baron's spine.

"What...what are you doing here?" Praxis shakily demanded, taking another step back.

"I'm just up in the hood pumpin' ma flow man, _chillax_!" Damas declared, krumping his way towards Praxis by a few feet. The Baron leapt backwards at Damas' approach and his tough demeanour began to fade, until an air of fear surrounded him instead.

"Woowee ya'll, I'm feelin' fine!" Damas cheered, taking another step forwards with his arms raised high. A strange smell penetrated the air and Damas immediately noticed it. "Yo, someone smells up in this neck of tha woods, bro! That's _rank, _G!" he jeered stupidly, looking around as if someone else was the cause of the odour.

"St...stay back!" Praxis yelled, continuing to back away.

"Yo brutha, don't go givin' me no G man! I'm just here swingin' in the joint, spankin' in the crib ya'll!" Damas merrily cheered, krumping closer still.

"Go away!" Praxis begged, tripping over as he backed away, continuing to scamper backwards regardless.

"Hey man, don't go acting the fool yo, aight?" Damas continued, unrelenting in his krumping.

Somewhere along in his travels towards Praxis, Damas accidentally 'krumped' into a bin, tipping it over so rubbish spewed out all over the street. Damas turned to the mess he'd made and immediately began making gangsta hand movements whilst 'defending his case'.

"Awww no! No you didn't man, I was like totally walking there bro and you got up in ma face in the crib! I didn't create no mess here G I was just walkin' in ma hood homey G! You a dawg man to call me out on this mess like NA-HA! Ma shawty's gonna hear bout this ya'll, aight? Fully sick homey, yo!" Damas went off on his tangent, shaking his head incessantly and waving his finger at the garbage around his ankles.

Praxis, by this stage, was screaming in horror, clutching his head and rolling around on the ground as if someone was spraying him with acid. But it was one final act on Damas' behalf that sent Praxis over the edge.

"Yo homey-P, foshizzle ma nizzle, I got a itch dawg!" Damas groaned dramatically before he commenced in scratching his backside with Torn's pasta-server, all the while murmuring "ooooh yeeeaaah" and "aight".

The Baron let out on final wail of terror at this move, and mustered his strength to clamber to his feet, running off screaming in horror, all the while Damas hip-thrusting around the place in victory.

An unfamiliar feeling of peace and serenity then descended on Haven City. The screams slowly died down and the explosions ceased to occur. It was five hours later by the time all the fires had been put out and all the wounded civilians had been collected and sent home.

Erol would later find Praxis cowering back home at the Palace, sitting in the dining room, his entire body shaking as he struggled to eat what appeared to be a wedding cake all by himself. Erol sighed in relief at the now subdued Baron and made his exit, wondering whether it was too early for him to go to bed to sleep off the horror of the day's events.

On the way to his room the Commander passed Ashelin.

"Ashelin, next time one of your relatives is due to stay..." he began.

"I'll go register Animal Control in the speed dial..." Ashelin finished calmly.

"Make sure you don't accidentally remove Dominos..." Erol added.

"At any rate, let us just be grateful that once more Damas cancelled Praxis out. With any luck, they'll continue to cancel each other out until we no longer have to put up with either of them..." Ashelin sighed dramatically.

"We can only hope..." Erol murmured.

And with that, another episode of terror ended. Probably full of plot holes, grammar errors and things that just didn't make sense at all. But the inhabitants of Haven City were just grateful that at least they'd survived another chapter of this wretched story, and hopefully, with a bit of luck, Bijoux wouldn't return to create another instalment...

...

...

...

..._Fat chance_.

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**Bijoux: Now be honest, hands up how many people think my twistedly disgusting Jak/Mar-Damas theory is right. Come on, don't be shy XD Thanks to everyone who read and enjoy this chapter :)**

**As a reminder, I'm going through the older chapters of Palace Stories and fixing them up. Not too sure how long it'll be before the (hopefully) better chapters are up in place of the older ones, but if you'd like copies of the older chapters as they are then I suggest saving a copy of it :)**


	45. Big Boot's Mountain

**Bijoux:** Finally, I've got off my lazy rump and presented this site with an update! Admittedly, it took me just over a whole year to get this chapter finished, and it's been written in segments at a time so…hopefully it all runs coherently.

Apologies to Chocolate Zombie, who was interested enough to remind me that I hadn't updated this in a long while. I told him I'd have a new chapter done soon…and that was eight months ago.

Anyway…here's the disclaimer…

**Disclaimer: Jak and Daxter belongs to Naughty Dog, any other copyrighted material/references belong to their original and rightful owners.**

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**Note:** I understand I've referenced quite a few things in this chapter, and I'm hoping anyone reading will be familiar with said things, but if not, Google is your best friend, or you're welcome to drop a review and ask me.

**Some "knowledge" that might come handy for this chapter:**

The Fat and Skinny Went to War Rhyme:  
Fat and Skinny went to war,  
Fat got shot with an apple core.  
Fat and Skinny climbed a tree,  
Fat fell down the lavatory,  
Skinny went down and pulled the chain  
And Fat was never seen again.

The song "Bad Moon Rising" by Creedence Clearwater Revival is parodied. Having this song handy _might_ make the joke better.

I'm not sure whether "Esky" is a common term anywhere outside of Australia. I imagine Americans might instead call an Esky a "Cooler". A big plastic box you keep food in to keep it cold/fresh…

Maccas = McDonalds.

Hopefully that's all, sorry to ramble!

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**Palace Stories – May Have Been Exaggerated**

**Big Boot's Mountain**

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Of the few, public eye-based, tag-along jobs that Erol had to do as Commander of the Krimzon Guards, the one he did on the first weekend of every month was perhaps his most favoured. A surprise to most, considering such a weekend meant he was to take the young, aspiring Krimzon Guard children up to the Precursor Mountains, for an overnight camping trip. It was to educate them in survival tactics. Hanging with snivelling brats had never really been Erol's thing, but the job was easy enough and the children treated him like a god. They looked up to him, admired him, and offered to let him have their share of marshmallows. Ah yes, the job was a _sweet_ one.

So we join our Commander now, on the sunny afternoon of June the first, a Friday. He was relaxed, reclining comfortably on an old log, watching the little boys around him as they assembled their two large tents. They were doing it with an air of clumsiness and inexperience as per usual, but Erol figured they'd done this enough times to be fine without his help. They'd get there eventually, he told himself, lazily admiring his own tent which he'd expertly erected moments ago.

The sun was threatening to set at any moment before, finally, there stood three tents in the clearing. Erol eyed the children as they gathered around him expectantly. There were six of them in total. There was a short round one, named Hugo, who didn't properly fit into his Krimzon Scouts uniform. Another, Jon, was so tall and gangly that his shorts turned into hotpants on him. One of them, named Dott, had a mass of brown curly hair and a million freckles over his body. One child had large bucked teeth with skewed braces wrapped around them, whose name was Bucky. One of them was an avid Jak enthusiast, he had shaggy blonde hair, liked to colour his chin in with green texta, and had been ironically named Jayke. There was also a boy, Chester, whose head housed a forest of orange hair, whom Erol had christened his favourite the moment he'd met him several months ago.

"You, Hugo," Erol sat up, pointing to the rounded little boy, "Go get us some fire wood. And take Dott with you," he added, indicating to the speckled boy. The two toddled off obediently.

"What can _we_ do, Mister Erol?" Bucky asked, looking too eager for his own good.

"Bring the esky closer," Erol replied, pointing over his shoulder to the large esky. The bucked-tooth boy paired up with the tall one, and they awkwardly carried the esky over, placing it next to Erol. He pried the lid off and placed it aside.

"Now, who remembers the Rations Ratio?" Erol asked. Each of the boys raised their hands diligently, much to his content. "Good, then you can set to work sorting your share into these," he said, tossing four small canvas bags to the children. He reclined back lazily once more.

"And remember, it's _your share_. No more. I don't want any _Praxis _servings. Especially you, Jayke," Erol glared towards the Jak enthusiast boy.

"Sir, is it true that if one of us accidentally makes a Praxis Serving, the Baron will come _here,_ _looking_ for it?" Bucky asked.

"Oh yes, Bucky, I _fear_ so..." Erol warned with an air of mockery.

Without the ability to sense sarcasm the children were spooked by this warning, and so they carried out their work carefully. Eventually Hugo and Dott, as well as a large stack of firewood, rejoined them. As darkness fell, Erol constructed them a campfire and taught his favourite, Chester, how to light it properly.

The night continued on fairly uneventfully. Sitting around the campfire, Erol told the boys stories of his heroic deeds in both Krimzon Guarding and racing (the occasional heroic tale of him taming a rampaging Baron being spewed out too). He was having fun, gloating internally at their wide, worshiping eyes, but his ego was abruptly deflated when Jayke started up talking about Jak's manly exploits. The fire was hastily kicked into dying embers and Erol ushered the children grumpily to their tents so as to shut Jayke up.

Within his own tent, Erol nursed his bruised ego to sleep, wondering what was so great about Jak anyway. He drifted off into dreamland, fantasising about himself squashing Jak under a racecar and mailing his severed goatee to Jayke. But something interrupted Erol's dreams. Something...loud, something desperate, something...that was strangely familiar. It was heavy footsteps, laboured breathing, intent sniffing, a rumbling stomach and rustling food packets. Feeling groggy, though sensing he was in danger, Erol rolled onto his stomach and lay still. The full moon was casting a large silhouette on the side of his tent. A hefty figure, perhaps a bear, was hunched over the esky outside. Erol reached for his gun and lurched up onto his feet.

"Stop right there!" he yelled, thrusting his tent open and aiming his gun at the suspicious figure. The creature panicked and let out a sickening bellow. It went bounding off, much in the fashion of a startled gorilla, into the trees and out of sight. Shamefully, it had vanished before Erol could get a decent look at it.

"Bah, blasted animal!" Erol yelled, striding over to the overturned esky and inspecting the damage. "Damn it! He ate just about everything!" he concluded in rage. The children by now had emerged from their tents.

"W-w-was it him?" Hugo asked, quivering in fear.  
"Who?" Erol asked, turning to eye the children, expecting to hear some drivel about 'Big Foot' or something.  
"Baron Praxis," Dott answered. Ah, if only it _were _Big Foot.  
"You idiot, Jayke! You must've made a Praxis Serving!" Bucky accused angrily.  
"Did not!" Jayke whined in protest.  
"Did too!" Bucky spat back.

An argument blossomed amongst the children at this point. Erol didn't feel particularly compelled to stop it, until Chester "tattled" to him that Dott had snuck a bag of candy onto the trip. Doubtless, Dott became angry at Chester, and Erol nearly missed preventing the punch that was thrown in his favoured child's direction.

"Stop, stop it!" Erol commanded, forcing the children apart.  
"But Mr. Erol, he made a Praxis Serving, it's _his_ fault!" Bucky argued, pointing accusingly at Jayke.  
"No way! It was definitely Dott's candy bars!" Jayke protested.  
"Shut up! That can't be right. It's not true. There's no such thing as a _Praxis Serving_, I made it up to scare you into taking fair rations," Erol intervened with frustration.  
"But...then why did Baron Praxis come here?" Jon asked slowly.

"It wasn't him. It was just a bear or something, or a metalhead. Why would Praxis come all the way up here just to eat out of _our_ esky? That's foolish, even for him," Erol sighed. The boys fell silent, perhaps seeing sense in what Erol was saying. "Now go back to bed," he instructed finally.

"What are _you_ gonna do?" Jayke asked, while the others began to drag their feet back towards their tents. They must've decided along the way that they'd feel safer if they all crammed into the same tent, and so they did.

"I'll stay out here and keep watch. If that _thing_ comes back, I'll shoot it," Erol stated with an air of bravery.  
"Oh. Really? Coz if you were Jak, you'd hunt it down and-"  
"Get out of here!" Erol bellowed, chasing Jayke away.

Living up to his promise, Erol settled himself by the esky and the dead fire and waited, gun in hand, for the potential reappearance of the creature. On the outside he was adamant that it was merely a bear, but something nagged, deep within him, that the boys were right. Maybe it _had _been Praxis. You might have assumed this would make the Commander more at ease; alas, it made him all the more nervous. Praxis moved in far more mysterious ways than any bear or metalhead ever could.

Erol's wrist watched ticked and ticked as hours dragged past. It was after midnight, he was feeling tired; threatening to drift off to sleep again, he began to imagine things. Occasionally there was a large shadow that floated past his line of sight in the forest, circling the camp in a predatory manner. Other times he imagined he could hear low whispered gibberish being cooed from the darkness of the woods. At one point, he would've sworn on his grandmother's grave that he could smell Praxis' bacon scented cologne wafting in the night air. When he briefly nodded off, his ears still picked up the sound of something eating another thing close by, and when he snapped awake, he mistook the howl of a distant wolf as a rumbling belch. This was all quite odd and Erol was understandably spooked. He bunched his knees up to his chest and rapidly fired his gun in the direction of any and all noise that he heard.

"He's here, I know he is, it _has_ to be him..." he crazily muttered to himself, rocking backwards and forwards on his tailbone. Needless to say, the constant firing of Erol's gun kept the children awake and they lay in bed, wide eyes staring at each other fearfully. When one boy made the mistake of sneezing, a bullet tore through their tent and back out again.

The boys lay in fear for hours before finally Erol's random shooting ceased, as did his indecipherable, paranoid muttering. He'd nodded off to sleep apparently. And it wasn't until after the sun arose that he awoke again. The first thing he saw, from his position sprawled in the ash remains of the campfire, was his tent – torn to shreds.

"What the hell?!" he barked, lurching onto his hands and knees and racing to his beloved tent. "What happened?" he asked himself, looking through the shredded remains to discover that all his possessions had been vandalised in some way (predominantly chewed up). The strangest part of it all was when he turned to look at the forest and noticed that two large oak trees, spaced apart by two meters, were sharing his spare pair of underwear, their trunks having a leg hole each.

"How would you even _achieve_ that?" Erol asked in bewilderment, "And why on earth would you _want _to?" He looked around the campsite, and noticed that other things were in disarray too. The logs and stumps around the campfire had been turned to splinters; the esky had been raided so thoroughly that it had a large hole in its bottom; Erol's gun looked as though it'd been melted by something; the esky lid was so dirty and scratched that it appeared as though someone had sat on it and ridden it down a hill; there were large footprints scatted all about the camp and the occasional butt-groove embedded in the dirt; and the empty boys tent was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened here?" one of the boys asked as they emerged from their unscathed tent. Erol turned to them solemnly.

"_He _was here," he uttered gravely.

* * *

"So Erol, how was your camping trip?" Veger asked the moment Erol walked through the Palace doors come Saturday afternoon.

"Horrible," Erol droned, his mangled possessions under his arms, "Simply horrible."

"Oh, really?" Veger asked, "I never would've guessed," he smiled mockingly, eyeing the shredded tent in Erol's armpit and observing the purple shaded bags under his eyes. Erol turned an exasperated face towards Veger, glowering at him. He geared up to bark something rude back at Veger, but was interrupted when Ashelin strolled into the foyer.

"Erol," she suddenly said, looking taken aback. "You're home early," she quirked an eyebrow at Erol and strolled slightly closer to him and Veger.

"Something unexpected happened. As you can see, my tent came off worse for wear," Erol mumbled tiredly.

"Oh...how awful," Ashelin responded vacantly, losing interest.

"What on the Precursor's green earth could've _done_ such a thing, I wonder?" Veger mused, cupping his chin thoughtfully.

"It was probably just a bear or something. You're asking for trouble if you spend the night on those mountains. As if the threat of metalheads wasn't bad enough," Ashelin scoffed, dropping her weight onto one hip and crossing her arms sassily.

"True...true..." Veger pondered.

"You know, I thought the same thing," Erol spoke up, turning away solemnly, "At first."

"Hm, at first? Whatever do you mean?" Veger probed. Ashelin rolled her eyes.

"Well, call me crazy, but...I could've _sworn_ that the creature that did this was..._Praxis_," Erol responded.

"What? Praxis you say?" Veger asked with a gasp.

"Yes, I mean...this thing, it was as destructive as an animal, but...it was shifty, _smart_ even. It wasn't just a hungry beast, it was a hungry..._Baron_," Erol gushed, dropping his shredded belongings and striding closer to Veger and Ashelin, looking quite worried as he did so.

"Erol please, it was just a metalhead," Ashelin replied firmly.

"No, it wasn't. The metalheads are always in those mountains, but this, this was _new_. It's never happened to me before. Maybe Praxis saw the chef packing the esky yesterday morning and he saw something he fancied?" Erol suggested. Veger nodded his head thoughtfully.

"_Fancied, FANCIED?_ Erol, this is my _father_ you're talking about. Even if he fancied something in your esky, why would he bother to climb a _mountain_ in the dead of night, just to eat it? He may as well raid the kitchen here. It's all the same food," Ashelin argued.

"Huh...I suppose you have a point. Still, it was odd. I could've sworn it was him," Erol mumbled in defeat.

"Maybe, maybe you _are _right, Commander," Veger mused, deep in thought.

"How do you figure?" Ashelin quickly asked, unimpressed.

"Well, we all know that Praxis' logic can be a little eh...skew-whiff, so maybe he _did_ see something in that esky and came looking for it," Veger declared.

"You raise a good point," Erol nodded.

"Oh brother," Ashelin sighed, turning on her heel and quickly strolling towards the front doors. Standing before the doors, she suddenly turned back, "If you're so sure it's Father up in the mountains, then there's only one real thing you can do to pro- I mean, _prevent_ it," she stated.

"Really? What's that?" Erol asked, eyes wide in wonder.

"Come July, on your next camping trip, take _Damas_ with you. If Father _does_ follow you up there he'll be too scared to get too close," Ashelin declared.

"And if he's still attacked by the beast?" Veger enquired.

"Simple. Then it's not Father," she said, strutting out the doors. "It's something _completely_ different."

* * *

The time felt like it had dragged on endlessly, but finally the first Friday of July rolled by. Erol had confronted Damas a week or two prior and had gained his agreement to tag along. In all honesty, Erol had been expecting Damas to be difficult and that money would need to be involved in order to convince him to come, but on the contrary, he was easily swayed by the mere prospect of camping right from the get-go.

"No one ever invites me camping! It shall be a blast!" the Desert King had boasted. At first Erol was joyed; Damas was a tolerable enough man, and his presence would do _much_ for his confidence – and perhaps he'd even teach the kids a healthy thing or two as well. Erol was in for an unpleasant surprise.

Damas showed up at the foot of the mountain ridiculously early (Thursday morning), and complained angrily when Erol finally showed up with the children. Thankfully Damas' mood lifted at the sight of the children, but only because he spotted Hugo and Jon and burst into laughter, chanting the "Fat and Skinny went to war" rhyme over and over again. Already, Erol was sick of him. The trek to the mountaintop was usually uneventful. Damas _made_ _it _into an event. All the way up he bragged stupidly about his accomplishments. The children were impressed, Erol was not. Over and over Damas insulted the mountain, claiming it to be a sissy compared to the treacherous, mighty mountains, sand dunes, cliffs and Kleiver's beer belly of the Wasteland.

About midway up the mountain Damas noticed Jayke and, in a loud stupid voice cheered, "Hey! I didn't know my boy was on this trip! How have you been, Jak?!" he smacked Jayke "playfully" on the back and sent the boy toppling over, rolling violently all the way back to the mountain base. Erol watched in disbelief as all this unfolded and angrily commanded everyone to stay put while he trudged back down to retrieve Jayke. The whole _escapade_ put them back about an hour, and, much to his horror, when Erol returned, Damas and the other children had not stayed put at all.

"Where the hell has that _doofus_ taken them?" he ranted angrily. In a tizzy, Erol traipsed to the top of the mountain, dragging Jayke along behind him. He sought out their usual campsite and was _moderately _relieved to find them all there. He released Jayke from his sweaty grasp and stormed over to Damas, who was leisurely reclining against a log, fanning himself with a map. "Damas, I need to have a _chat_ with you," he hissed through gritted teeth. Damas looked up at him, suddenly determined.

"And I you!" Damas snapped. He suddenly sat upright and looked very tenacious, "Why are there no _ladies _on this camping trip?" he demanded to know. Erol regarded him with a scrunched up nose.  
"_Girls _are not _suited_ for the _Krimzon Guard_," he responded matter-of-factly.  
"You got it all wrong, there's a fury to a woman's wrath. Have you ever seen my lady Wastelanders before?" Damas interjected, a mild look of fear passing through his eyes.  
"_Girls _are not _allowed_ in the _Krimzon Guard_," Erol sighed, rolling his eyes.  
"What about Ashelin?" Damas asked confusedly. Erol fell silent, his face going blank.  
"_Naughty Dog_ was too _lazy_ to make a female _mesh_ for the _Krimzon Guard_," he responded with the same tone of importance. Damas seemed to accept this answer; he shrugged and stood up, lumbering over to the boys who where unpacking their tents.

As the children began to construct their tents in the fashion that Erol had taught them, Damas roared "No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong" and began to undermine Erol's teachings by showing the boys how a "real man" constructed his tent. Erol remained silent, but seethed to himself as he set to work building his own (new) tent. When finally Damas had buffed Erol's method of tent construction out of the boys' heads and drilled _his _method of tent construction in instead, the Wasteland King strolled casually over to Erol, dusting his hands off.

"Yep, they're some _fine _tents," Damas declared proudly. He placed his hands on his hips and admired the two large tents from afar, nodding his head slowly.  
"Hm, yes, speaking of which, Damas," Erol began almost sarcastically. "Where exactly is _your _tent?"  
Damas turned to him with a blank face.  
"Oh, I don't have a tent," he responded casually.  
"What? But...but I _told you-_"  
"I don't own one," Damas shrugged. "But it's not a problem, I'll just sleep in this one," he declared merrily, jabbing his thumb at Erol's tent.  
"But...that's...my..." Erol trailed off, watching dumbfoundedly as Damas crawled into his tent.

Erol was furious but he settled to bottle his rage up. Dragging his feet stiffly across the campsite, he went into the forest to collect firewood. He spent ages out there and had collected a decent pile in his arms when he returned. But as he stepped back into the campsite, he smelt cinders and heard loud roaring. He peered around his pile of wood and nearly dropped it with shock at what he saw.

"Damas!" he yelled, hobbling quickly over to Damas. "What the hell is this?" Erol bellowed, indicating with his head towards a large fire that Damas had constructed.  
"It's the campfire!" Damas cheered nonchalantly.  
"This isn't a _campfire_," Erol yelled, "This is a _bonfire_!"  
"You're right Erol, it _is _the bomb!" Damas yelled back happily, mishearing the Commander over the roar of the blaze. He turned to grin at Erol and suddenly noticed the stack of wood in his hands. "Hey! Nice work!" he bellowed, slapping Erol chummily on the shoulder. Before Erol could protest, Damas yanked the heap of wood out of his arms and hurled it all, unceremoniously, onto the fire.

Erol was speechless. He was so furious, he felt as though his head was expanding. He briefly wondered how Damas had even _created _such a fire with their limited supplies. His answer came quickly when Damas produced a large can of gasoline seemingly out of nowhere, splashing it on the fire whilst screaming "w00t". The fire sparked up and exploded in more flames. It suddenly dawned on Erol that he'd best check on the children. He scurried around the campsite. Three of the boys were standing a safe distance from Damas' fire, watching in awe. The others were in their tents, setting up their beds. Erol shuffled them out of the tents and towards the other three.

He returned to Damas, and was mortified to see that the Desert King had found his way into the rations esky. Without a single bother, Damas had helped himself to a packet of biscuits, and was chucking other packets of food to the boys from his spot seated on a rock by the fire.

"Damas!" Erol growled, a packet of chips suddenly hitting him in the face. He bent down to retrieve the chips from the ground and noticed that there were already many empty packets at Damas' feet. He stood up straight, growling Damas' name again. But the Sand King wasn't interested. He suddenly stood up too.

"You call this _man_ food?" he bellowed disgustedly. "Where's the meat?" he ranted.  
"There's dried meat at the bottom!" Erol argued. "Stay away from it, this food is to be rationed!"  
"Rationed? RATIONED?" Damas hollered. "I'm a big man, Erol! A huge, _gigantic_ man!" he patted his stomach meaningfully.  
"Well you're going to have to learn to eat like a _little_ man, aren't you?" Erol spat back.  
"That's what _you _think," Damas sneered, a wicked grin coming to his face. "Come children!" he yelled. Six pairs of feet diligently scampered after Damas as he departed into the forest.  
"Where are you going?" Erol yelled after them. With the children's respect for him now placed solely on Damas, he got no response.

In the time it took for them to return, Erol had taken to pacing the campsite grumpily, feeling it best to keep an eye on the fire.  
"There you are!" he yelled the moment he saw shadows emerging from the forest. The sun had now set and it was dark. Hurled over Damas' shoulder was a huge, maroon lump.

"What...what the hell is _that_?" Erol blurted out, pointing questioningly at the thing on Damas' shoulder.  
"Dinner!" Damas responded proudly. Stepping into the glow of the fire, Damas revealed a large boar-like metalhead slung over his shoulder.  
"He hunted it with his _bare hands_..." Jayke whispered with wide eyes. Erol was not impressed in the least. He watched from the sidelines like an angry, neglected girlfriend, tsking and sighing, as Damas constructed and mounted the metalhead onto a spit. He remained at a distance, eating his "sissy" rations responsibly, even after the meat was served.  
"_Dirty cheaters_," he hissed to himself.

When Damas and the Boy Scouts had finished their fill, the rest of the metalhead was carried, still on its spit, away from the fire, supposedly so Damas could eat the rest of it in the morning. Erol moved to sit with them around the fire, though didn't say a word. Eventually the bonfire began to settle down, perhaps running out of fuel, or perhaps Erol's soddened mood had dampened the air around it enough to diminish its enthusiasm for life. Either way it settled down enough that they no longer had to scream at the top of their voice to be heard over it. Damas sat on the esky and, in true camping spirit, decided to tell some scary stories.

He told many _manly_ stories of heroic deeds, Wasteland hunts, coliseum battles and princess weddings, but the last story, or perhaps _premonition, _was what left a lasting impression on the boys and Erol alike. Damas leant in closer to the dying fire, his eyes wide and serious, his voice hushed.

"You know, rumour has it, there's a lot of talk about the world ending in 2012..." he whispered gruffly, mystically. The boys were riveted. "Yes, there's a lot of theories," he went on coolly, "Religious apocalypse, black hole, huge comet, nuclear apocalypse, World War Three, Martians, worm hole, sun explosion, super volcano earthquake..." the boys' faces grew terrified. "NO!" Damas suddenly barked, making even Erol jump. Damas' eyes were wide; they slowly scanned each face around the campfire a few times before finally, in a croaky voice, he said, "..._Praxis_." A collective shudder wracked the campsite.

The boys' heads were buzzing with fresh Baron based fears, but Erol ushered them to bed regardless, deciding it was getting late. When he returned from settling them into their tents, he discovered Damas was nowhere to be seen and had the unfortunate pleasure of finding him, already sprawled out, fast asleep and snoring loudly, in his tent. The Commander suddenly realized that perhaps there was a _reason_ why no one ever invited Damas camping. Sighing in annoyance was all Erol had the energy for, so he merely stumbled back outside and fell asleep by the fire.

Ruckus was one way to explain what Erol awoke to later that night. "What's going on?!" he screamed, lurching upwards. Children were screaming and there was a loud thumping; a large shadow was lumbering around in the darkness. Erol scampered onto his feet.

"Children, stay calm," he called. The children heard his voice and rushed to his side. Erol noticed that both their tents had caught alight. One of them had collapsed under the flames; the other was drooping, but still standing. "Stay behind me," he instructed, to which the boys happily complied. He held out his pistol and aimed for the lumbering shadow. He fired at it rapidly but missed each time. The beast roared dementedly and bee-lined for Damas' spitted metalhead. In the darkness it feasted on it hurriedly, belching and snorting as it tore it to shreds. The flames licking the tents lighted up the area quite a bit, but the creature was smart; it kept to the shadows, careful, despite its chaotic lumbering, not to be seen. Once the metalhead was devoured, the monster belched mightily and directed its attention on the esky.

"NO!" Erol yelled, firing his gun again. "Damas!" he called desperately. "Where's Damas?" he asked, still frantically shooting. As if on cue, Damas suddenly burst from Erol's tent, still tangled in his bedding; he was screaming hysterically.

"Run, run! For the love of _the Precursors, __RUN_!" he bellowed in pure terror. He ran, flailing his arms around crazily, right past the beast and into the woods, not once looking behind at Erol or acknowledging his plight. His frantic screams echoed from afar as he bolted back down the mountainside.

The children all screamed as the beast drew closer, eyeing the esky by the dead bonfire mound. Erol continued to fire his pistol, all the while backing away. Eventually the children lost faith in him and followed Damas' example, all of them fleeing into the woods, squealing and waving their arms around. Erol wanted to stand his ground, wanted to best the beast, wanted to put it in its place, but as it came closer and closer his nerve shattered.

"Save me, Jak!" he cried, dropping his pistol and running for his life. When he plucked up the courage to return to the campsite, in the bright of day the next morning, the destruction was worse than it had been the first time. _Everything_ was totally annihilated...

* * *

When Erol returned to the Palace later that day, once again prematurely exempted from his camping trip, he immediately sought out Veger and Ashelin.

"I don't know, guys," he said in a hushed voice, "last night, that thing, it...it didn't care at all that Damas was there," he blurted out. "I...I don't think it's Praxis..." he admitted.

"See, I told you, Erol," Ashelin responded huffily. "Now if that's all-"  
"Hang on a moment, Commander," Veger butted in. "Maybe you're being too hasty. Is it not just possible that Damas' presence wasn't apparent enough, and that the Baron didn't realise he was there?" he suggested. Erol pondered for a moment. Ashelin sighed irritably.  
"No. You could definitely tell that Damas was there. He'd been making his _Wastelander _presence known all afternoon and all night."  
"See, if it had been Father, he wouldn't have been so willing to cause a stir," Ashelin said.  
"Exactly," Erol agreed. "Besides, Damas was horrified of that thing. Surely he'd sense it if it were Praxis and not act so scared."  
"Case in point," Ashelin stated, "That thing you've been encountering is obviously just a bear or a metalhead – some wild animal. It probably _lives _up there, Erol. You're only asking for trouble if you keep returning to the scene of the attack."  
"Hold on, Ashelin, I still remain unconvinced that this is not related to the Baron," Veger argued. Ashelin narrowed her eyes and dropped her weight onto one hip, glowering warningly at Veger. Erol remained quiet, brooding.

"Look, either way, my father or not, this thing doesn't want to welcome you onto _its _mountain. If you want to solve the problem then it's simple. _Stop going up there_," Ashelin ranted, putting her foot down. She turned afterwards and stalked from the room, looking very frustrated and muttering darkly about how stupid Erol could be.

Erol turned to Veger. "Maybe she has a point," he said, "But I can't let that thing walk all over me without even knowing what it is. I have to get to the bottom of this." And with that, Erol also stalked from the room.  
"Indeed," Veger uttered after him.

To solve the mystery of the 'Precursor Mountain Beast', Erol formulated two experiments. First, he would subtly probe the Baron for any information. If that came back unfruitful, then he would return to the mountain in a week, set up a camp, and leave it unattended for the night. He would make sure the Baron did not know of this empty camp and would keep tabs on him all night. If he returned the next morning to find it destroyed, then Ashelin would have been right. If not, then the Baron would be suspect number one. Experiment number one came to clause immediately after Erol's conversation with Veger and Ashelin. He strolled casually into the Throne Room.

Once the greetings were aside, Erol casually asked the Baron, "So...what did _you_ get up to last night?"  
Praxis regarded him with his single beady eye for only a moment.  
"Oh, the usual," he joyfully replied.  
"Oh…and uh…what _is _the usual, Sir?" Erol asked.  
"The same thing I do _every _Friday night," the Baron shrugged.  
"And that is?" Erol became more impatient.  
"Food…" Praxis shrugged again, furrowing his big brow. Erol sighed and rubbed some greasy sweat from his face. He tried to remain civil, but could not quite contain himself.

"_Where were you last night, Baron Praxis_?" he exasperatedly asked.  
"Oh, the usual place."  
"And, where _is _the usual place?"  
"The same place I go _every _Friday night."  
"And that is?"  
"Food place…"  
Erol sighed with frustration.

"And what foods do you _consume _at this food place?"  
"Oh, the usual."  
"And what is _that_?"  
"The same thing I eat _every _Friday night."  
"_And __**that**__ is_?"  
"Food…"  
Erol took in a laboured breath through his gritted teeth and massaged his temples.

"_**Baron Praxis**__, were you, or were you not, __**atop a great incline**__, __**last night**_?"  
"Hmm…I can't quite recall. I think I was at the usual place…you know, eating food? At the food place? Food just magically appears at the food place…that's why I go there. To eat food." Praxis seemed particularly unfazed by the bombardment of questions.  
"And this _food place _is located _where_?"  
"The same place I go _every _Friday night."  
"And that is _where_?"  
"Oh, the usual place."  
"And where is _that_?"  
"The food place."  
"_**Where**_?"  
"The same place I go _every _Friday night."  
"_**WHERE**_?"  
"Oh, the usual place."  
"Why…for the love of the Precursors, _why_…?"  
"…To eat food…"

Erol put his head in his hands and groaned into them. He was tired of going around in circles, but it seemed as though the Baron was stuck in an impenetrable loop. The Commander grumbled to himself in defeat. Praxis shrugged and waddled off elsewhere, deciding that Erol was simply jealous that he'd missed out on "food night".

"Um, Commander, Sir?" the Throne Room guard piqued up, once the Baron had left.  
"What?" Erol groaned agitatedly.  
"Praxis was at KFC last night," the guard said. Erol's eyes immediately swivelled to him.  
"What?" Erol asked desperately.  
"Yeah, he's real _secret_ about it. He doesn't want McDonalds to find out that he's two-timing…" the guard shrugged.  
"How do you know this?" Erol demanded.  
"Well, who _would _want their chick to find out they've got another girl across town…or in this case, two buildings to the left?"  
"No, not that! How do you know he was there?"  
"Oh, I uh…kinda work there at night. You don't pay me enough."  
"So then, perhaps Praxis has an alibi…" Erol said to himself, ignoring the guard's last comment. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and strolled from the room, deep in thought.

Whilst it was very possible that Praxis had been at KFC last night (and the frightful Friday the month before), Erol was not quite convinced that he was no longer a suspect. He could have, after all, strolled from KFC once it had closed and, desperate for more food, smelt and hunted the esky atop the mountain. So, his head abuzz with conspiracy theories and paranoia, Erol went with experiment two.

The next week rolled by, bringing with it a fresh Friday afternoon. Erol enlisted the aid of several underpaid Krimzon Guards and trudged up the mountain with new camping supplies. The Krimzon guards guffawed loudly and pointed obnoxiously when they spotted Erol's underwear still stretched between two trees at the edge of the forest. Erol glared at them to shut them up, and then proceeded to wonder why he hadn't removed the underwear yet. A strange inkling told him they were ill fated, and tied with his near future, but he ignored this feeling quickly, stupidly leaving the underwear be.

Erol and the guards set up the campsite just as it had been the week before, esky and all, and then left it all unattended. Erol kept tabs on his large Baron until Praxis's bedtime. But the Commander remained anxious all night, safe in his Palace bed, lying awake and wondering whether the camp was being ravaged at that very moment. By four o'clock in the morning, he had given up on rest and settled to investigate. It would be light by the time he arrived there anyway.

Whilst the campsite, much to Erol's surprise, was unmarred, he had a shock anyway.  
"Ashelin?" he blurted out, spotting her poking around the tents.  
"E-Erol!" she jumped.  
"What are _you_ doing here?" Erol asked suspiciously, strolling closer to Ashelin.  
"I heard about your plan. I wanted to check it out," she shrugged.  
"Everything is in tact…" Erol observed. Everything was as he'd left it; the esky hadn't even been opened.  
"Yeah. I guess you were right, Erol, it must be…Father." Ashelin admitted.  
"I'm still unsure of that. There's a chance he has an alibi. Maybe _you're _right. Maybe it is just some wild animal that doesn't like people on its mountain." Erol sighed.  
"So…you'll stop coming here? You'll stop disturbing it?" Ashelin asked almost hopefully, with a quirked eyebrow. Erol was silent for a while.  
"No," he stated. "I will not be bested by an animal," he declared proudly. Ashelin rolled her eyes.  
"Well fine, if you want to be some big Macho-Man, then go ahead. But Erol, I have a suggestion."  
"What's that?"  
"If you're still at least partially inclined to blame my father, then why not take him along next month? Either way, it'll prove whether he's the cause or not. And if he isn't, _maybe_ he'll chase off whatever _is_."

Ashelin had planted a very dark prospect in Erol's mind. He wafted around the Palace halls with it ever present in his thoughts all day. Was it really the answer? Would taking the Baron solve the mystery? Was the risk really worth it? He was so lost in thought that he accidentally bumped into Veger.

"Watch it, knave!" both men instinctively barked before they'd noticed who they'd walked into. They backed off a step and relaxed.  
"Ah, Commander, have you got to the bottom of your mountain monster?" Veger asked.  
"No, not yet. Praxis might have an alibi. Ashelin suggested taking him with me next trip," Erol solemnly admitted. Veger looked aghast, wondering why anyone in their sane mind would suggest what Ashelin had. But with some deliberation, Veger's expression changed.  
"Well, perhaps she's onto something. After all, what have you got to lose?" he said before strolling off, leaving Erol to his confusion.

* * *

With much thought and consideration to the pandemonium he could very well be walking into, Erol eventually decided that he simply could not resist solving this mystery, so he settled to do as Ashelin had suggested. However, he involved a twist of his own – the presence of Damas to help subdue Praxis on the trip.

Erol was certain that Praxis would want no part in the camping trip and that he would require bribing (or sedating), but much to his surprise the Baron was extremely eager. He squealed in delight the instant he had an inkling that he was being invited, and dashed off to his room to pack his new Dora the Explorer print pyjamas (which he excitedly tried on first, and paraded around the Palace in, for three hours).

The Commander was expecting Damas to be a little harder to convince this time around, what with his previous bad experience, but once more the Sand King was thrilled with his invite. He smashed open a window of his Throne Room with his bare fist and stuck his head out, slicing his ears on the jagged glass remains, and bragged condescendingly to the Spargus folk of his "camping engagement".

The Commander asked himself why Praxis and Damas were both so thrilled about camping. He pushed the thought completely from his head when the prospect of the two of them camping alone together fluttered into his imagination.

Needless to say, the children were not thrilled when they found out Praxis was coming along - which was precisely the reason why they _didn't_ find out until it was far too late, when they were already traipsing up the mountainside. Damas had also been left in the dark about this crucial fact and chose to display his displeasure, not by doing the mature thing and going home, but by stating that Praxis was large and smelly – in far ruder words mind you – and demanding he receive a peg and some blinkers to accompany the Baron's presence.

Thankfully the two grown leaders held it together after this. Well…for _half _the duration of the hike. When the topic of 'Hannah Montana' was brought up by Hugo, Damas snootily declared that the episode entitled "Bad Moose Rising" was the best, and man tackled Baron Praxis to the unlevelled ground below when he disagreed completely and said iCarly would kick Miley Cyrus' arse. Gravity once again let Erol know how much it loathed him, by transporting the brawling Damas and Praxis down to the base of the mountain. Unable to leave the children unattended while he retrieved Damas and Praxis, Erol was forced to take them with him all the way to the bottom of the mountain.

Insult was added to injury when Erol reached Damas and Praxis and found the two of them sitting together chummily, as though they'd been best friends since the dawn of time. When Erol gingerly asked why this change had come about, Praxis pointed to his Dora PJs, which had exploded out of his bag (along with the rest of stuff), and exclaimed that Damas had called them "snazzy".

This bizarre little truce lasted – thankfully – to the top of the mountain. It quickly crumbled beyond that point…

"Ah, Damas," Erol commented as he spotted Damas putting up his own tent, "I see you remembered to bring your own tent this time around."  
"Of course I did! Unlike _Praxis_," Damas declared childishly, sending a dirty glance over to Praxis who was sitting dormant a few feet away.  
"I'll have you know," Praxis declared snootily, "they didn't have a tent in my size."  
"Ha!" Damas laughed, finding much pleasure in Praxis admitting his hefty shape.  
"…So I brought a pair of Kleiver's underwear instead," Praxis went on, ignoring Damas.  
"What?!" Damas barked, instantly growing offended at what the Baron had implied of Kleiver's weight. "You leave Kleiver out of this!" he hissed defensively, standing upright.

Both Erol and Damas had assumed Praxis was merely joking about bringing Kleiver's undies, but, much to their surprise, the Baron unzipped his travel bag and extracted a large pair of slightly yellowed knickers. The letters spelling "Kleiver" along the edge were stretched incredibly wide as Praxis nailed the waistband to the ground in four different places, with the use of tent pegs.

"Hm," Praxis hummed snootily, once he'd manipulated the underwear into a pyramid shape with the use of a steel tent pole in the middle. The Baron retrieved another steel pole and harshly drove it into the ground in front of his tent. A large Genie Bra, also with Kleiver's name scrawled across it, was then pried from Praxis' bag and secured to the top of the pole as though it were a flag. He tossed his head backwards proudly and then crawled into his "tent" via the stretched out y-front opening. Erol shuddered involuntarily and quickly excused himself to find the first aid kit, and with it the Pepto-Bismol. Damas wondered why Praxis didn't just purchase a group-sized tent.

Judging from the erratic movements from within Praxis' underpants accommodation, Damas gathered that he was setting up his belongings inside. This was confirmed when Praxis began to grumble bitterly about there not being enough room for his bar fridge. Once the Baron re-emerged from his tent he uncharacteristically reported for duty, with much enthusiasm, to Erol. The Commander was enclosed by the Baron's large, rounded shadow from behind, and turned reluctantly to face Praxis.

"Commander, I'm here to work!" Praxis declared proudly, standing at attention. Before Erol could respond, Damas piped up from across the campsite.  
"You wouldn't know _work_ if it waltzed up and bit your nose off!" Damas spat in defiance. Praxis scrunched up his face in disgust and swivelled around, posing like a diva as he indicated to his metal nose.  
"Been _there_, done _that_," Praxis replied sassily. Damas grumbled darkly under his breath and went back to minding his own business.  
"Uh…you're looking to help, Baron Praxis?" Erol nervously asked. "Well that's…uh…great," he continued when Praxis nodded enthusiastically. Erol swallowed a nervous lump in his throat. Praxis helping would be worse than Praxis actually _trying_ to make things worse. Erol panned the campsite, looking for something the Baron could do that wouldn't be detrimentally apocalyptic, but found no such task.

"Why don't you go…help the children with their tents," Erol stammered, suddenly willing to chauffer the Baron off onto _anyone _to get him away.  
"Sir, yes Sir!" Praxis boomed, saluting Erol before he marched off towards the children. The children instinctively screamed when they noticed Praxis was looming over them, but the large Baron did not seem to register their terror. His stomach rumbled casually in retort to the delicious panic in the air, but that was as much as he responded.

"What?" Praxis boomed as he looked at the half erected tent before him. "No, no, no!" he raved as he advanced on the tent. "You call this a _tent_?" he barked.  
The children did not dare respond.  
"This isn't a tent! Where's the drawbridge? The mote? The _steeple_? Geez, no wonder you kids keep getting eaten on this mountain!" Praxis rolled his eye.  
"Uhm…with all respect, Lord Baron, Sir…" Bucky spoke, "You seem to be describing a Castle," he twitched nervously. The Baron's large head swivelled in his direction slowly, and Bucky soon found himself the focus of Praxis' single, grumpy eye.  
"Don't you tell _me _what I'm describing. I don't see no _architect _diploma hangin' on your wall," Praxis barked, waving his index finger around.  
"What wall…?" Bucky asked.  
"_Exactly_," Praxis boomed.

"And also, Baron Sir, none of us have been eaten…" Jon corrected.  
"Prrrp, _yeah_, not _yet_," Praxis rolled his eye once more before he let it settle, very meaningfully, upon the chubby kid, Hugo. "_Anything_ can happen on a _camping trip_."  
A collective shudder reverberated around the group of children.

"I remember when _I _was in the Krimzon Scouts. Someone got eaten _every _camping trip. One time, _I _got eaten," Praxis' single eye opened wide, his beady iris fixated on the mass of scared and confused faces looking back at him. "That's how I got _this_," the Baron went on, pointing towards his face.  
"Uhm, you're pointing at your beard," Jon pointed out.  
"_Exactly_…" Praxis whispered sinisterly.

The children exchanged glances of confusion, wondering how being eaten resulted in growing a beard.

"Now, _that _on the other hand," Praxis pointed over to his 'tent'. "_That_ is what I call a tent," he bragged.  
"That's a pair of underpants…" Chester said bluntly. Praxis fell deftly silent. His beady eye became so enclosed by his scrunched up eyelids that the children briefly thought he'd fallen asleep.  
"Do I barge into _your _backyard and call _your _home _a pair of underpants_?" Praxis boomed defensively, clearly hurt by Chester's painful truth.  
"You named the area that my house is in, _The Slums_…" Dott answered. Praxis let this retort settle uncomfortably upon his brain for only a moment, before he let out an angry growl and charged into the children's drooping tent. He pried the support pole from the ground and twirled it, wrapping the tent fabric around it as though he were using a fork to pick up pasta. The children shrieked in horror, scattering for cover as the Baron began to brandish this newfound weapon around, bum-rushing the kids with it as though he were jousting. It was a wonder none of them got hurt.

On the other side of the campsite, Erol was busy lighting the campfire and did his best to ignore the commotion, but it eventually came to him in the form of Praxis hovering the tip of his tent weapon above the flurrying flames, till the fabric caught fire. The children screamed and scattered again as Praxis came back charging their way. With the finesse and style of an Olympic javelin athlete, Praxis hurled the flaming pole off the side of the mountain, where it rocketed gracefully towards his own city. It collided with a single house in the Slums and disappeared through one of its windows. For a moment everything was calm, but suddenly there was an explosion and the house burst into flames. Grabbing some binoculars, Dott was mortified at what he saw.

"Hey! That was _my _house!" he exclaimed, "Why'd he blow up my house?"  
"I think the more pressing question is, how did he know where you live?" Chester mumbled.

When Praxis finished his mandatory victory dance at his achievements (to the sound of "Chariots of Fire" by Vangelis – which had suddenly started playing out of nowhere), he turned around and headed back towards the children, acting strangely upbeat and happy once more.

"How do you like _that_?" Praxis bragged sassily. Something glinting around the Baron's neck caught the children's eye, and they were astounded to find him wearing a gold medal all of a sudden.  
"Where did he get that…?" one boy asked in confusion.

Erol, in the meantime, stood by the fire, looking astounded. Praxis' outburst had caused so much damage. The Commander was wondering why he'd ever doubted that the Baron had been responsible for terrorising them on the mountain prior to this. This thought brought a sudden realization with it.

"Damas!" Erol gasped to himself. Why wasn't that fool doing his job? Erol looked over to Damas' tent and saw the Sand King in question hovering not near it, but by Praxis' tent instead. Equipped with a can of pink spray paint, Damas was scribing something _very _inappropriate onto the side of Praxis' tent.

"Oh my…" Erol trailed off, rushing over to Damas. "What are you doing? You can't write that! Did you not just see what Praxis did to the children's tent, simply because they insulted his sorry excuse for one?" Erol protested desperately.  
"That Praxis don't scare _me,_" Damas defied. "He ain't got not _G_."  
"Look, I've told you this before, I've no idea what _G _is. Please speak _my _version of English," Erol sighed.  
"You don't know what _G _is? Man, _you _ain't got no G!" Damas ranted.  
"Fine. Do what you want, but don't you _dare_ blame _me_ when your tent follows the same fate as that other one and ends up getting hurled into your _sand castle_ across the Wasteland," Erol growled before waltzing away.

Erol was fast beginning to learn that the most immature people on this trip weren't the children. Oh no, it was _those two;_ Praxis and Damas. When Praxis returned to his underwear tent he spotted the nasty message sprayed across it, but stood staring at it stupidly for several minutes. Erol was alerted to the Baron's predicament when he spotted him hovering around Jayke, asking him what the graffiti said. When Jayke slowly read it out to him ("The Spice Girls Stink"), Praxis went into a stupor of utter rage.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he bellowed at the small boy. He lunged over and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, carrying him to the two trees that still housed Erol's underpants from that dreaded camping trip where all the trouble had begun.

"I was just reading what it said!" Jayke cried in protest as he was positioned at the centre of the undies. Praxis ignored him and began to pull him backwards, stretching the underwear elastic as though he were using a giant slingshot. Erol watched in horror from afar before he deemed it best to intervene.

"Sir, please, you _can't_ do this!" Erol cried as he rushed over.  
"Jak's finally gonna get it!" Praxis responded, though it was unclear whether he thought Jayke was Jak, or whether he was going to fire Jayke _at _Jak. A few metres away, a spark flickered in Damas' brain and he charged at Praxis, all the while brandishing an airtight bag of fruit (that he'd retrieved from the esky). Catching sight of the impending Damas-fruit collaboration attack, Praxis squealed like a scalded pig and abandoned ship, dropping Jayke on the ground as he fled into the woods behind them.

Erol sighed and placed his face into his hands; tonight was going to drag on forever.

* * *

Praxis was not seen or heard from for the next hour or so, although the entire time that the Baron was gone, Erol had that sickening feeling that something dark and evil was circling the campsite in the shadows again. Chasing Damas (and the canister of petrol in his arms) away from the campfire was just enough to distract Erol away from this unnerving feeling momentarily, but it returned shortly afterwards.

Damas rudely butted Erol out the way of the prime seat (which was a large smooth rock) at the campfire, and immediately took over proceedings. He boasted and raved stories like he'd done last camping trip, claiming the children's full attention. Erol was less impressed by Damas' exploits, so was left to wonder what exactly that dark, round shadow in the woods was going to do next. At one point, much to Erol's horror and confusion, he was certain he'd seen _two _of those shadows lurking. One of them was Praxis, it had to be, but then what was the other one? He shuddered and turned away, just as Damas clapped his hands together and announced "time for food".

Erol was so unnerved he didn't even care when Damas began to splurge on the rations, giving out heavy-handed servings of food to the children, himself and Erol. If Praxis were lurking close by, surely this would attract him over. Damas finished his dinner at Wastelander speed then extracted an acoustic guitar from behind him.

"You're in for a treat tonight, children," Damas beamed. "I stole this guitar from some hippy-townie on the way here today," he declared, strumming the guitar idly. "That dumb, yellow haired, rat holding, bum-fuzz-chin _moron_ never saw me coming." Erol thought this description sounded suspiciously like Jak.

"Play us a song, Camp-Master Damas!" Jon begged. Erol was jolted out of his 'shadow-spying' simply to take offence to this remark. He was about to exclaim that _he _was the Camp-Master, not Damas, but was cut off before he began.

"Of course!" Damas bellowed excitedly. He began to strum the guitar with enthusiasm, setting up a bouncy, country-styled rhythm for himself. Despite the feel good melody of his guitar, Damas' lyrics were far from cheerful, and it didn't help that his scratchy voice was clearly not meant for singing.

"I see a _fat man_ rising,  
I see a _Baron_ on the way,  
I see eaten cakes with _icing_,  
I see him from very _far away_," Damas sang. The children were fixated, ceasing in the nibbling of their dinner.

"Don't flaunt food _tonight_,  
Well he's bound to take your slice,  
_There's_ a _Baron_ on the rise," Damas continued with the chorus. There was a small, collective shudder from the children.

"I hear sounds of _rampant gorging_,  
I know the end is coming soon,  
I fear enzymes _overflowing_,  
I hear the noise of crazy chewin'," Damas added another verse to his song. Erol sensed the presence in the woods shift slightly closer.

"Don't flaunt food _tonight_,  
Well he's bound to take your pie,  
_There's_ a _Baron_ on the rise," Damas sang the chorus again. The presence in the woods was hesitating. Erol was tense, anticipating its imminent strike.

Damas ceased singing briefly, strumming out his guitar, enthusiastically tapping his foot in time to the rhythm. Erol swallowed lump after lump in his throat, fidgeting uncomfortably, wondering whether he should alert the others to the looming shadow. When he opened his mouth to speak, Damas began to sing again, drowning him out.

"Hope you, got your fridges tethered,  
Hope you're quite prepared to dine,  
I'd bet, he'd eat your nasty sweater,  
Some fries, you will have to buy," Damas predicted ominously. The children all made mental notes to purchase some fries to appease the Baron with. Erol balled his fists up and began to breathe erratically. That thing…it was getting closer, inching its way out from the woods.

"Well, don't flaunt food tonight,  
He's bound to hate his diet,  
_There's_ a _Baron_ on the rise," Damas chanted. For the first time in his life, Erol was praying that the shadow was (a complacent) Praxis. He couldn't take it anymore; he closed his eyes and waited on edge for the shadow to come to the campfire.

"Well don't flaunt food tonight,  
He's bound to take your life," Damas began to conclude his song.

"_There's_ the _Baron_, on your right," he finished, tilting his head meaningfully to the left side of the campfire. The children all instinctively looked to their right and all of them screamed with horror when they saw Praxis sitting there. Erol's eyes snapped open and landed instantly on the Baron. Praxis' face was that of a pout, and his beady eye swivelled around, perhaps wondering why everyone was screaming in his direction. In his arms, the Baron was protectively holding a half-empty bucket of KFC chicken. Erol wondered where'd he got that from, but was more concerned with how long he'd been there.

"Baron, Sir," he blurted out, "How long have you been there?"  
"I dunno…a few seconds," Praxis mumbled back, chewing his mouthful of chicken.  
"Where did you get that?" Erol asked, pointing at the bucket, wondering whether KFC had built a restaurant atop the mountain without him knowing – for if they had, it would surely explain _everything_.  
"The food place…" Praxis grumbled defensively.  
"Where is that?" Erol asked, standing up and shuffling closer to the Baron, nearly stepping in the campfire as he did so. Yes, yes, KFC _had _to have built up here. It was the answer to everything; Erol was so close to finally solving this cursed mystery.  
"The usual place…" Praxis grumbled.  
"Yes, yes, and that is _where_?" Erol raved.  
"The food place…" Praxis grumbled. Erol contained an anguished scream, resisting the urge to pull out his ginger hair. His sanity was saved by an interfering Damas.  
"I know where you're going with this," Damas said. "The food place he speaks of, it's in the city," he continued.  
"How do you know that?" Erol questioned.  
"Only when Praxis is in the city, can I no longer smell his foul odour. It's overpowered by _other _stenches down there," Damas simply said, nodding his head towards the city below. Erol sighed in defeat, sitting down again. A dark thought suddenly passed his mind.

"Wait," Erol said, looking at the Baron again. "So, you went down to the city? You weren't up here, in the woods?" he probed. Praxis looked around awkwardly for a moment.  
"Well…I _was _uphere…" he admitted in an uncomfortable mumble. "I was spying from the forest…" he said.

"Why?" Erol asked desperately.  
"I wasn't sure whether this was _my _campsite. I didn't just wanna barge in," the Baron shrugged casually. "You would not _believe _how embarrassing it is when you barge in on someone else's camp," Praxis commented much in the manner of a gossiping lady. Erol sighed in relief; so it _had _just been Praxis lurking in the woods earlier. His mind was put at ease, but only for a moment.

"And I bet you were out there for an hour trying to figure it out," Damas chastised haughtily.  
"I'll have you know," Praxis retorted with is metal nose in the air; "It only took me _ten minutes_."

Erol's blood ran cold. Once more, they weren't alone up here.

* * *

Sleep did not come easy to Erol. He kept telling himself that he should just up and leave right now, run for his life back to the safety of the Palace, but dignity prevented him from living out this plan.

Everyone else in the camp appeared to be asleep; especially Damas who was snoring so loudly and aggressively, that Erol momentarily thought a wild boar had taken up housing in the Sand King's tent. Perhaps this calibre of snoring was the _true _reason Damas ended up banished in the Wasteland? Erol made a mental note to research this thesis once he got home. He knew he was finally falling asleep when he decided that this would be his grade school research project for the year.

His much-needed sleep remained with him for only a short while. The sounds that accompanied _terror _were to wake him, only an hour later.

The children were the first to know something was amiss when their only remaining tent was suddenly torn from the ground. Before they were even out of their sleeping bags, the shredded remains of the tent were falling all around them. They screamed and scrambled to their feet, blindly running in all directions to avoid the elusive beast. The screaming awoke Erol, who groped around before he found his pistol, clutching it in his sweaty, shaking palm. He ran from his tent, just time for it to suddenly combust. Somewhere in his deluded, distressed mind, Erol was desperate for the creature to be Praxis.

"Praxis, stop!" he yelled into the darkness.  
"It's not him!" Dott yelled, "Look!" He pointed towards Praxis' "tent", where the roof was moving up and down with the Baron's snoring. Erol ran towards the Baron's tent and kicked Praxis through the fabric.  
"Get up you idiot! Defend us!" he desperately yelled. Praxis stirred, he poked his head out of the tent and groggily surveyed his surroundings. Suddenly a look of horror overcame his face. He dislodged his own tent from the ground as he hurried out of it, screaming all the while. Clad in his pink Dora print pyjamas, and with hair rollers in his moustache, he ran around the campsite, trampling and knocking things over, adding to the destruction. Clearly the Baron could sense the fortitude of the beast they were dealing with, and he disliked it enough that he began to grab the children, wildly hurling them in the vague direction he sensed that it was in. A few children were even unfortunate enough to be stood on by the Baron in his mad haste to avoid the creature. To make matters worse, the Baron seemed to be responding to his own panic, eating it up and sending him into a greater frenzy. Erol could see that this was not going to end well and tried desperately to calm the Baron and the children.

"Stop, stop! Calm down!" Erol yelled, managing to round up most of the children and Praxis. "Running around doesn't work! We already learnt that the first time…and the second time. Now were going to face this with a level head and defeat this beast, once and for all!" Erol pep-talked. It worked surprisingly well. Everyone seemed much calmer, though still on edge. Momentarily, the beast was lying dormant too, lurking in the darkness. "Wow, I'm quite good at this, aren't I?" Erol gloated, more to himself than anyone. Damas begged to challenge Erol's newfound skill.

"IT'S THE BOGEY MAN!" the Wasteland King suddenly screamed, charging out of his tent, clad in a white, ankle length, old-fashioned nighty. He stopped near the children and stared at them meaningfully. "He's gonna kill us all!" Damas continued. The children's nerve disappeared instantly, and they began to run around screaming again, obviously valuing Damas' take on the situation more than they valued Erol's. Erol's deflation of self-esteem was enough to block off his panic. He watched in silence as the destruction of the campsite continued. The raging, growling beast shot out of nowhere and pinched the esky so fast it looked invisible to the naked eye. It took it to the shadows and ravaged it mercilessly, eating everything (including most of the esky itself) but the fruit. The fruit was rejected with an unpleasant howl, catapulted from the beast's position where it hurtled over to Jayke, hitting him and exploding in chunks of apple and banana.

"I'll save you Jak!" Damas screamed, racing towards Jayke. He grabbed the boy and carried him to the underpants slingshot that Praxis attempted to use earlier. Completely defeating the purpose of rescuing Jayke earlier, Damas fired the small, screaming boy off the mountainside. He flew towards the city and disappeared from view somewhere near the Port. Damas then promptly positioned himself against the underwear and stepped backwards several paces before firing himself off the mountainside as well. Erol was totally flabbergasted; he could do nothing to protest. Instead he chose to react by running off into the woods, screaming his head off, knowing full well that if the beast did not get him now, surely Jayke's parents would.

The end was well and truly nigh. Praxis had feasted on so much panic by this stage that he let out a thunderous belch, directed accidentally into the dying embers of the campfire, causing them to explode into an exaggerated inferno. Light illuminated the entire campsite. The beast hissed and backed off further into the shadows.

Erol turned back from running to look. The beast was before him, it's back turned, hissing and spitting at the light. Erol tried to swallow his fear, realizing that this was the prime opportunity to save his reputation and solve his mystery to boot. He willed himself to remember all the times that Jayke had gone on about Jak being so much cooler than him, and how the children clearly respected Damas more than they did him, and suddenly he found Damas and Jayke's fate hilarious. The rage and lunacy welled up inside Erol and, cackling madly, he charged the beast from behind. The two of them flew through the air briefly, and then hit the solid ground with a thud. Erol was atop the beast, holding it pinned down.

"Ha! I got you now!" he cheered aggressively. The children all stopped and looked on, their eyes wide. He struggled to keep the monster subdued, before suddenly going numb, for pinned underneath him was none other than…

"Ashelin…?" Erol uttered in disbelief. Against his better judgement, he scrambled off of Ashelin and watched as she quickly lumbered to her feet. She stood still by the campfire blaze, her eyes darting around crazily, her brow furrowed dramatically. Her demeanour was very alike to Praxis'. Food was all down her front and flecked in her hair and on her face and her clothes were dirty, singed and frayed in places.

"I smell chicken!" she suddenly growled in a voice that sounded highly unlike her own. It still had the same pitch, but its undertone and the way she slurred her words sounded like Praxis. Erol could not believe what he was seeing. He picked himself up from the ground and watched as Ashelin stormed around the campsite, kicking things aside and sniffing the air violently, searching for the fabled 'chicken'. She found it the form of Praxis' discarded KFC bucket, but became infuriated when she discovered it empty.

"Raaaawwwwwr!" she growled, lurching towards Hugo. The chubby boy let out a scream as the KFC bucket was thrust over his head, becoming stuck there. The boy ran off squealing into the woods. "Panic…" Ashelin suddenly gasped, licking her lips she chased after the boy.

"What's going on here?" Chester asked.  
"I've no idea…" Erol mumbled numbly. This whole time, this _whole entire time_, it had been Ashelin up here. It just didn't add up. Why was she acting this way? Erol could not figure it out. More puzzling was Praxis' reaction to the situation. He was balled up in the foetal position, near the remains of his 'tent', his eye wide as he muttered absently that Ashelin was going to eat all the panic for herself and stave him to death.

A few minutes later and the sun was beginning to rise in the distance, bringing a thin layer of light with it. Ashelin returned from the woods looking extremely dazed. Her eyes groggily set on Erol and she looked confused, as though she was unsure what she was looking at. She dragged her feet over to him and looked about awkwardly, seemingly acting more like herself. She cleared her throat and tried to straighten up her dirty clothes.

"So uh…um…_camping_, huh?" she asked casually, as though the past hour had not taken place. Her voice seemed raspy and deflated, though it was lacking the sinister Praxis undertone. "Cool…cool," she continued, "I was just…you know…taking a stroll," she shrugged. Erol quirked an eyebrow; was she trying to pretend nothing had happened? Or did she really not know?

"You call _this _a stroll?" Erol exploded, waving his arms around and indicating to the mass destruction of his campsite. "You call _that _a stroll?" he pointed meaningfully at Praxis, still curled up on the floor. Ashelin looked around slowly, shiftily clearing her throat again.  
"Well…_stroll_ has a very…_loose _meaning…" she tried to justify, still in that casual tone. Erol sighed and placed his face into his hands, collecting himself.

"This has been you? All you? Every month? _You've _been terrorising us this whole time? I don't understand…" Erol gapped confusedly.  
"I can explain," Ashelin finally admitted defeat. "It was me."  
"Yes, we've passed that part already," Erol rolled his eyes.  
"I…once every month, I've been having these…_episodes_. I can't control them, it's like…I _become_ my father," she explained shakily. "I came up here to avoid being seen like that. But then you guys were camping up here, I couldn't help myself!" she shook her head in distress. Erol suddenly felt sympathetic, he couldn't help but remember the time _he'd _had a "Praxis Episode", that time the Baron left him in charge of the city.

"Oh! So _that's _why you were so eager to get us to stop coming here," Erol realized, clapping his hands together as the thought hit him.  
"Yes…" Ashelin sighed shamefully. "But you kept coming, you just couldn't let it be!" she snapped.  
"Hey! I've been having this camping trip for years. _You _should've found somewhere else to have your…_episodes_," Erol argued defensively. "In fact, why _didn't _you go elsewhere?" he pondered.  
"Duh, I was thinking like Father," Ashelin responded sassily.  
"Oh…well…that explains _everything_, I guess…" Erol admitted.  
"Yes. And I would've gotten away with it too, if it weren't for you _meddling kids_," Ashelin snarled, glaring at the children.  
"Wait…so then…why were you up here when I set up my fake camp the other week?" Erol suddenly questioned.  
"Oh, I was going to destroy everything so you thought it wasa resident monster," Ashelin merely shrugged. "I didn't find out about your plan till it was too late," she added with a spiteful glare.

Erol fell silent, still struggling a little to take all of this in, let alone the horrifying realization he'd just had that Praxis was scared of Praxis styled Ashelin. As if on cue, Praxis suddenly waddled over, completely recuperated from his panic session.

"Yeah! In your face _Damas_! Let's see _Jak_ walk in your footsteps half as good as _my son_ followed mine!" Praxis gloated stupidly, clearly proud of what his daughter had achieved. Erol sensed that somehow, _somewhere_, Damas had heard this and was now aspiring to train Jak to be more "gangsta". The thought made him shudder.

"Well, at least it's all over for the time being," Ashelin spoke. "Now we can all go-" her voice suddenly became momentarily more Praxis-like again, "-McDonalds!" she concluded, covering her mouth instantly after she'd said it. It was clear she had not intended to say such a thing.

"Good idea!" Praxis bellowed back. He grabbed the discarded esky lid at his feet, set it on the ground, then sat on it as though it were a sled. "Come, children," he yelled. The remaining four children cautiously squeezed onto the esky lid, afraid to defy the Baron's invite. He grunted and mumbled darkly as he used his feet to get the esky lid going, pulling his feet back in and cheering happily as it slid down the mountainside with him and children atop it.

"Well, at least you've stuck around to help me clean up, Ashelin," Erol sighed. "Ashelin…?" he asked when he got no response. He turned around and looked frantically for Ashelin, eventually spotting her. She was running after Praxis and the children, screaming at the top of her Praxis afflicted voice "Maccas".

Erol groaned to himself and, with the strain of the previous day and night weighing on him, and the anti-climatic ending to his solved mystery, he began to clean up the pieces of his destroyed camp.

Perhaps he would find a safer place to host next month's camping trip, that is to say there would be any children _left _by then…

…

Meanwhile, high up in the Palace Throne Room, Councillor Veger was dealing with a conundrum. Splinters from the wooden broom handle in his hands were sticking into his sweaty palms, but quite frankly, he just didn't care. He was desperate, oh so very desperate.

"Get off you idiot!" he barked softly, quiet so no one would awaken and hear him. Alas, Damas would not budge. Splattered, _fixed _into place, the Sand King was immune to the straw broom prodding his side.

It had all started a short while ago. Veger, waking up before the sun as usual, headed to the empty throne room to recline on the best seat in the city, clearly making the most of the Baron's absence. It was a hobby of his to come and sit on the throne; alas, Ashelin had been _hogging it _as of lately. But here, in this seat, he dreamt of the days where he would be in charge. Once he got that fool Praxis, and his cantankerous scourge of a daughter, out of the way of course.

The head of council was relishing in his plots for world domination, but had been rudely interrupted by a very loud, disgusting and quite comical noise from behind him. It sounded much like the sound of a 90kg (198lbs) pancake hitting a glass coffee table at high speed. Turning in the throne, what he saw was quite horrifying. That _monstrosity_ from the desert, Damas, had surely sensed the Baron's absence too, and was now seeking to overtake Haven.

Veger would not allow this, for getting Damas off the throne (a second time) would be far harder than simply waiting for Praxis to have a heart attack whilst climbing some stairs. Veger did the only thing he could; he took up arms, hung his torso out the closest window, and began to try and push the Sand King slathered against the glass, off.

"Is there _ever _a time when you're _not _being stubborn?" Veger cursed, trying with all his might to dislodge Damas, only just now noticing how strangely he was dressed in that ankle length nightie of his. Eventually Veger attempted a _new _tactic. He was quite pleased when the broom handle coaxed Damas from the windows more effectively.

Plummeting to the city below, Damas' yells of abuse, and his pledge to raise Jak to be "Supa Gangsta", echoed in the early morning air. Veger sighed contentedly, tossed the broom aside, dusted his hands off, and then returned to sit in the throne. Soon, _soon _it would all be _his_.

He became immersed, imagining all the wonderful things he would do once he was Baron, such as closing all of the hospitals, teaching his life history in all the schools, and pushing old ladies into oncoming zoomer traffic. Ah, life would be sweet…so, so sweet…so _very_ sweet.

"Hm…" Veger hummed, "I could sure go for a McFlurry right about now."

* * *

**Bijoux: **Not sure whether many people will remember (it's been a while) but the Palace Throne has a "history" for corrupting the minds of those who sit in it...or at least, in these god forsaken stories it does. Hope everyone's enjoyed this installment, and as always, feedback is welcome. Thanks for reading :)


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